


We Get What We Deserve

by Falln_Grce



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Comatose Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy Ending, Injured Stiles, Kid Fic, Logic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, One Big Happy Family, Retired Sheriff Stilinski, Sane Peter Hale, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, Stilinski Family Feels, Temporary Character Death, Untrustworthy Alan Deaton, Witches, because that's a novel concept on this show, because that's lazy writing right there, kate never came back, the nemeton is not evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-04-24 04:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falln_Grce/pseuds/Falln_Grce
Summary: My take on a slight 'fix-it' scenario, where Peter gets over his allergic reaction to caring about others, Stiles and Derek realize their worth, Lydia is still a badass, and the Sheriff recognizes family when he sees it.The Hales are not part of the McCall pack, Malia is not infatuated with Stiles, Deaton is as shady as he ever was, and there's trouble brewing in Beacon Hills.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles had reached the point of the evening where the idea of left-over Chinese food was more interesting than listening to Scott and Derek debate the best way to deal with the latest threat. And the meeting had just started ten minutes ago. A coven of witches had moved into Beacon Hills seemingly overnight. They didn’t know how big the group was, or what they were capable of. Hell, they didn’t even know what they wanted.

 

What they did know was that Scott wanted to _discuss_ the situation with all of them. In Derek’s loft of course. Stiles wondered if any of the others questioned why Scott never called meetings at his own house.

 

Deaton had come by shortly after the start of the pack meeting, to share whatever information could help them decide on a way forward. Getting the feeling that the man would take at least the next hour to impart what amounted to a solid five sentences of information, Stiles had made the executive decision that the group needed Chinese food.

 

“Extra spring rolls?” he asked Peter on his way out.

 

He got a smile and a single finger held up gesturing that he wait a minute. Peter unfolded himself from the stairwell and guided Stiles out of the loft door. He didn’t need an escort down to his Jeep, but that’s exactly what Peter did.

 

“You don’t need to leave because of Deaton, Stiles.” The elevators had reached the basement level where his Jeep sat next to a row of the pack’s cars. Peter was taking his bodyguard duties seriously as he continued to follow Stiles out.

 

“I’m not,” he denied. “I just don’t want to spend the next hour listening to bullshit.”

 

Peter gave him a smirk that held more fondness than it would have a year ago and pulled his wallet out as Stiles opened the driver’s door. Despite a half-hearted protest, Stiles accepted the small stack of twenties. He counted at least five.

 

“Get extra everything,” Peter told him. “Spend all of it. What they don’t eat, you can take home to the Sheriff.” He knew damn well Stiles would not be feeding his father greasy Chinese. It was the thought that counted.

 

“You’ll tell me what I miss?” He asked as Peter shut his door for him.

 

“Of course. Assuming you’re still not speaking to the rest of them.” And that was another surprise about Peter. While the rest of the bonds he had with the pack remained tenuous and fragile after the nogitsune, he discovered Peter’s bond only got stronger. Lydia’s and Derek’s too, though the man was still as taciturn as ever, and his relationship with his dad was getting better day by day.

 

“I’m not _not_ talking to them,” Stiles muttered. “Friendship works both ways, dude. I just stopped being the one to reach out all the time.”

 

Peter nodded and gave a couple pats to Stiles’ window as he backed up to let the jeep pull out. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at heading back upstairs to join the others. And much like Stiles, he liked keeping a healthy distance between himself and the former Hale Pack emissary. Stiles had brushed it off, but he knew the boy was wary of the other man. _Good instincts_ he thought to himself as he pressed the button for the loft.

 

Aside from the snarky comment here and there, Peter had made a conscious effort to withhold his input on the planning lately. It wasn’t like they were going to listen to his suggestions, and he really didn’t feel like seeing the inevitable distaste on Scott’s face if Stiles happened to agree with him.

 

Peter could admit that, to his credit, Scott had a moral compass firmly pointed true north.

 

Then again, occasionally to his detriment, Scott had a moral compass firmly pointed true north.

 

And Peter had seen too much of humanity’s dark side, experienced too much devastation and loss to see things in the black and white world the alpha lived in. It was one of the reasons he had always liked Stiles. The boy had his own experiences with loss and pain, being trapped inside his own mind with no way out, with people rejecting his concerns as paranoia… Given the time and resources, Peter knew Stiles was going to grow into an extraordinary young man.

 

And what could Peter give him, if not time and resources.

 

“But you can’t prove that, Derek!” came the alpha’s raised voice. Peter could hear him all the way down the hall. Sure, some of that was the werewolf hearing, but still. He closed his eyes and took a deep, hopefully calming breath before he slid the door open.

 

“I don’t need to prove it,” Derek argued back. “A coven of witches is not a group of nice, old ladies who get together to make a quilt on Sundays. They’re dark, Scott. Nine times out of ten, they’re dark.” He threw his arms up and stalked around the table to lean on the stairwell.

 

Oh good, Peter was really hoping the attention in the room would be pointed in his direction. Derek settled close to his reclaimed step, apparently giving up on trying to debate the point for a moment.

 

“It’s true,” Deaton spoke up. “There are both light and dark covens. However, without knowing what they want, we can’t know which type of magic they’re working with.”

 

Peter hated the man. His nephew was trying to get Scott to understand that with the numbers falling heavy on the side of dark covens, it would be better to err on the side of caution. And there went Deaton, somehow twisting the words so Scott would pick the side the druid wanted.

 

If he didn’t hate him, he _might_ have been impressed with that level of manipulation. What Peter couldn’t figure out was why Deaton wasn’t concerned himself. He was a druid, low-level magic at best. But even low-level was enough for a coven to steal. And they didn’t usually leave their victims whole and hearty when they were finished.

 

He pulled out his phone and sent a text off to Stiles letting him know he should take his time, and to probably take his father some food at the station if he wanted to avoid the Scott & Deaton show.

 

The rest of the room tended to side with Scott without really knowing why. Liam and Malia very predictably stuck with the ‘peacemaker’ solution. Peter had a private chuckle to himself about that term. It didn’t mean what Scott thought it did. In Peter’s experience, peace came only when it was directly preceded by violence.

 

The rest were in the ‘this is way over my head, but Scott sounds pretty sure – let’s go with Scott’ camp. All except Lydia. But she seemed more resigned to a battle of wits lately. Much like Stiles.

 

Peter had made room in his life for the two geniuses when he saw they were struggling; Lydia with her Banshee abilities and Stiles with his recent possession and awareness of his spark. They’d been through trauma, but they were both determined to claw their way back to some kind of happiness. For the first time in a long while, Peter wanted to help.

 

Most evenings for the last four months had seen both Stiles and Lydia in Peter’s home for their evening meal. He worked with them on whatever they were researching for the pack or about themselves, but also helped them prepare for the graduation tests coming up.

 

After the nightmare that was their sophomore and junior year, neither were in a position to graduate a full year ahead. But with summer classes online and placement exams, they had worked with the school administration and were on track to graduate in December.

 

Peter wondered if Scott suspected he had lost that best-friend role with Stiles. He wondered if the alpha knew that lately Stiles was closer to Lydia and Peter, hell even Derek, than he was to Scott.

 

Eh. Probably not. Regardless, he settled back and got comfortable, nudging Derek with his foot and quietly let him know Stiles was getting food while indicating the seat in front of his was available.

 

Derek had become more comfortable around Peter lately. Enough that he had a room set up in his penthouse for his nephew that was used more nights than not in the last few months. And enough that Derek had started coming by earlier in the evenings and having whatever Peter had cooked for dinner.

 

It was early enough most nights that he got to see the Sheriff and Parrish when they stopped by to join the small group for dinner. After they left and the two high school students pulled out their textbooks, Derek would either relax in the living room with his uncle for a movie, stay with Lydia and Stiles if they were on a subject he could help with, or retire to the study for some quiet time with a book.

 

The loft had a lot of foot traffic lately. And it wasn’t as though Derek wanted to cede any kind of territory to Scott, but the young wolf apparently never learned boundaries. Being at Peter’s place was just easier most nights.

 

About an hour and a half after Stiles left, he came back into the loft with bags of take out. Scott called a halt to the discussions while the pack ransacked the bags Stiles had left on the table. After a quick scan of the room, he’d kept two for himself and brought them over to the stairs.

 

“You bought Panera for my dad and Jordan,” he told Peter. “Thanks, man.”

 

Peter smiled back at him and noticed one of the bags was from Panera as well. Stiles held it out to Lydia when she walked over. She put a pillow on the step in front of Derek and settled into her salad while Stiles squeezed past the two wolves until he was able to take a seat behind Peter. Derek opened the containers until he found the beef and broccoli, then passed the rest behind him.

 

The food served as a good distraction for a solid twenty minutes before Scott started in again. At least it encouraged Deaton to see his way out of the loft.

 

“So just to be clear,” Scott addressed the room, though his gaze shifted pretty firmly to the group on the stairs. “No one’s going to hunt down the witches or try and run them out of town.”

 

Peter thought it was adorable that he was trying to use a stern _alpha_ tone on two born wolves, a banshee, and a spark.

 

“Sure Scott, we’ll play by those rules.” Peter shot over with a smug grin as he took the bottled water Stiles handed over his shoulder.

 

Scott nodded, pleased with the acquiescence, and turned back to the group. No one caught Peter’s eyeroll.

 

Half an hour later, no one caught the group of four making their way out of the loft either. Scott had suggested they should have a movie night, and they had all claimed seats on Derek’s couches and chairs, laughing and arguing over which movie they should watch.

 

“Did they even ask to use your loft?” Lydia asked Derek as they rode the elevator to the parking garage.

 

Derek shot a blank face back at her. “Do they ever?” he let out a long sigh but gave Stiles a small smile when he gripped Derek’s arm in solidarity.

 

Peter knew without asking that his nephew would be spending the rest of the evening in the study. Surrounded by soft lighting and as many books as he could want.

 

“You should just move in,” he told him later when they were all back in his apartment. He didn’t intrude on Derek’s quiet time often, but he felt something needed to be said. “Sell that building, and move in here. You’re here most of the time anyway.”

 

Derek looked up from his book, setting it aside. “I was going to talk to you about that in the morning. I’ve already called the realtor. She’s putting it on the market next week and utilities are shutting off at the end of the month.”

 

Peter smiled and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite the couch. “I’ll be honest here, I thought I would need to convince you.”

 

Letting his heal loll on the back of the couch, Derek gave a humorless laugh. Peter had long since let go of any resentment towards him, but he was still surprised Derek would willingly bare his throat like he was. Maybe his nephew had become more comfortable around him than he previously thought.

 

“Yeah… I’m not sure what I really want to do right now.” He sat back up and looked at Peter before quickly moving his gaze to the rest of the room. “Stiles and Lydia need to finish school, so I guess I figured you would stick around for that.”

 

Peter gave a thoughtful “hmmm” in response, but let Derek lead the conversation.

 

“I don’t know,” he continued. “I don’t really want to go back to New York. We still have the apartment building there, so I could. But I don’t really want to. I like being here.”

 

It took a few moments of Peter’s committed silence for Derek to keep going.

 

“It’s not about Scott’s pack.” Another sigh. “I don’t really feel like I’m part of that pack. Or it’s just that it doesn’t really feel like a pack should. This does though.” He gestured to the room as a whole, or perhaps to the entire apartment. “This feels like the closest to pack that I’ve had since… since the fire.”

 

Although he’d never ask, Peter wondered what those six years had been like for Derek. He’d come to Beacon Hills following Laura’s trail, but they’d never spoken about it. Laura had been the alpha, but had she been a good one for Derek? The two had never been particularly close growing up. They’d been pack, but they weren’t thick as thieves.

 

Derek had kept secrets in his youth, so had Laura. For all that he loved his own sister, Talia had raised her children to be very independent of each other.

 

Had Laura been able to be the alpha, the sister, the pack that a fifteen year old, recently molested and betrayed Derek had needed? Laura had already left for college a year and a half before the fire. She’d been back for the family gathering, but almost as soon as the Pack had died, she tucked Derek into her car and driven them both back to New York.

 

She left Peter though. Under his own name, defenseless in a town swarming with murderous hunters. For that alone, she would never have had his respect as an alpha. Waking up from the coma with his impulse control firing at half speed contributed to what happened the night he killed her. But it wasn’t the only factor. And even though he and Derek were both mildly allergic to sharing feelings, he loved his nephew too much to explain his reasons.

 

“Derek, you’ll always be pack,” Peter told him with a tone that suggested it was a foregone conclusion. “With me, with the two of them out there. Even the Sheriff and his deputy consider you pack.”

 

“Are you staying in Beacon Hills?” He asked. And there was the shy boy Peter had missed.

 

“It’s September. They’re not due to graduate for a few more months, so we’ll be here for that at least.” Peter had only finished saying that as the door to the study opened.

 

“We’re doing a remote study program at Berkeley,” Lydia softly announced as she and Stiles made their way into the room, both carrying two mugs apiece. She handed her second cup to Derek and settled onto the cushion while Stiles handed Peter his and took the empty chair across from him.

 

“It’s that ridiculously expensive tea Peter bought at that occult shop in Redding last week,” Stiles told them, gesturing to the mug.

 

“It wasn’t an occult shop,” Peter scoffed at the same time as Derek look up with raised eyebrows.

 

“Is there…” he started to ask.

 

“We put two scoops of sugar.” Lydia smiled over and gently nudged his shoulder.

 

“We picked up three _‘rare manuscripts’_ on magical energy fields from that shop,” Stiles argued back to Peter’s rolled eyes. “I think I’ll stick by my description.”

 

“So,” Peter called out, redirecting their attention. “You’ve decided on Berkeley?”

 

Lydia nodded. “We submitted our applications back in August, and pending a successful graduation this December, they’ve accepted us both into the remote study program. I’m sticking with mathematical theory, but Stiles is doubling in history and mythology.”

 

They were giving up the valedictorian race in order to leave high school together, and Peter couldn’t be prouder. His only battle on the education front would be convincing the Sheriff to let him cover Stiles’ tuition.

 

“So you’re staying here?” Derek asked.

 

Both Lydia and Stiles grew a little pensive at the question, sharing glances in a silent conversation before Stiles spoke up.

 

“There’s something happening here. We don’t know what it is, but something feels wrong.” He looked over to Peter and saw curiosity and determination in his face. “Lydia can feel something in the preserve. And my spark’s been pinging around inside my head enough that I know something’s coming. We just don’t know what.”

 

Peter shared a look with Derek before giving the man a tight nod and turning back to Stiles. “We’ll look into it together,” he assured him. “But I want both of you focused on graduation.”

 

“Does that mean no more Pack meetings?” Stiles asked with light enthusiasm getting a small laugh out of Lydia.

 

“No more pack meetings,” Peter agreed. “I’ll write you a note.”

 

They ended the night with quiet conversation about their upcoming studies and the fact that Derek was moving in, which earned a squeal from Lydia and a huff of fond exasperation from Derek. All too soon though, the teenager’s eyes were drooping and neither of them protested when Peter ushered them off to their respective ‘guest rooms’ to get some sleep before they had to be at school in the morning.

 

* * *

 

Several hours after falling asleep, Derek woke to the sound of boots making their way by his door. It sounded like they were trying to be quiet, but boots were boots and they were weighted down by something.

 

He smelled human, gun oil, and the Sheriff’s preferred brand of aftershave. A quick glance to the bedside clock told him it was just before six in the morning. At least he was here because his shift ended, and not waking them up in the middle of the night for another crisis.

 

Awake he was though, and there was no pretending he was going to get back to sleep now. Besides, he could smell coffee coming from the kitchen, so he knew Peter was most likely up and about as well. He shuffled out of bed and into a pair of soft sweats to head out for his own coffee. It wasn’t like caffeine had a tremendous effect with a wolf’s metabolism, and it might be psychosomatic, but he looked forward to coffee in the mornings to help wake up.

 

He met Noah in the hall on his way out, and quickly dismissed the man’s apology for disturbing his sleep. “Don’t worry about it,” He told him. “They’re going to need to get up for school soon anyway.”

 

Peter was indeed in the kitchen with two cups of coffee waiting for them on the counter as he finished up making them some breakfast. They were all aware of Stiles’ desire for his dad to have heart-healthy food, but the wolves could hear his heart and it was just fine. So Peter indulged the man with adding a healthy dose of cheese into the scrambled egg skillet.

 

“Good shift?” Derek asked when the three men were seated.

 

Noah shared so many mannerisms with his son, so when his face got a slightly pinched expression, they knew that the answer was ‘no’. He finished most of the plate and half the coffee before he elaborated.

 

“We had an abduction in the middle of the night. Maisy Williams, three years old.” With a shake of his head and another sip of the coffee he continued. “Doors to the house locked. Windows still latched shut. We brought the dogs in and they didn’t pick up anything inside or outside. The parents are beside themselves.”

 

“They’re not suspects?” Peter asked.

 

Noah shook his head again. “No, I believed they were sincere. Mark Williams woke up around two, can’t say why or what woke him, but he got up to grab some water from the kitchen and checked her room on his way by. He woke his wife up when he couldn’t find her in the house, and by three, we had half the department combing through there. She was just gone.”

 

“Noah,” Peter got his attention when it seemed like the man was done talking. “Has Beacon Hills had a problem like this before?”

 

“Child abduction? Not for a while.” He looked lost in thought, so Derek got up to grab more coffee for all of them. “We had a little girl go missing outside of an ice-skating rink years ago. Never solved, but I remember working the case as a deputy.”

 

“You brought the case notes with you?” Derek asked. “I’d like to take a look if you don’t mind.”

 

“Actually, I was hoping I could ask both of you for a favor.” Peter looked intrigued at the request, while Derek just agreed without needing to hear more. “I’d like to take both of you to the house later today. I’ll tell them you’re consultants with the department, but I’d like to get your impression of the scene. Parrish said the house smelled bad, but he couldn’t really explain more than that.”

 

“We’d be happy to,” Peter assured him. “Why don’t you stay here and have a rest, I’ve got some clothing for you in the room across from Stiles. I’ll need to run out and do some grocery shopping while he’s in school anyway, so I can get your uniform dry cleaned while I’m out.”

 

It was a good plan and Noah knew it, so arguing wouldn’t be in his best interest here. Derek knew that and finished up Peter’s suggestion by adding “When he’s back, the three of us can head over there and check it out.”

 

Peter was pleased with Derek’s assistance. It fit nicely into his plans for the Sheriff to begin really thinking about the apartment as ‘home’. Food and sleep were two of the main provisions of a home, and Peter was determined to retrain Noah’s brain to see those needs being available with the Pack, rather than without it.

 

Stiles and Lydia joined them shortly after their alarms went off at six thirty for their own coffee and breakfast. They quickly went about their morning routines, and Noah joked once about them having their wardrobes and school supplies already moved in that this was like a second home for the two of them. Peter gave a smirk at the thought.

 

Hours later, like he suspected they would, both Peter and Derek picked up on three scents around the Williams’ home. Petrichor, ozone, and sewage.

 

He checked with Noah that the smell of sewage was not something detectable to the human nose – it wasn’t. The parents were in the home when they arrived and didn’t look like they’d slept at all. Peter didn’t blame them. But their exhausted state made it easier for him to absolutely rule out their involvement. Tired people don’t lie very well.

 

The most interesting discovery though was that Mark was something _other._ For all intents and purposes, Mark was human. Most wolves wouldn’t pick up on the soft notes of his scent. But he had that little something extra, and Peter had been around the block a time or two.

 

“Mrs. Williams,” Peter addressed the haggard looking woman slumped over the table nursing a coffee. “I’d like it if someone could show me around the yard out back. Would you be alright with Sheriff Stilinski staying with you while your husband accompanies me?”

 

Mark assured his wife he’d be fine when she clutched his arm, and both Noah and Derek took a seat at the table to let her know she wouldn’t be alone. Her head gave a jerky nod and Peter took that as his cue to lead her husband out the back door.

 

“Mark, do you know who I am?” Peter asked as the man showed him to the child’s playground in the yard.

 

The man gave Peter a quick glance over but turned back to run a hand over the bright, yellow slide before answering. “I know your name, but I’ve never met you.”

 

“Do you mind me asking…”

 

“I’m a spark,” Mark confirmed his suspicions. “Jessie and I used to be in a pack back in Utah, but we left after the hunters came in and wiped us out.”

 

Peter could see tears in the man’s eyes, and had a moment of pity for his extremely bad luck. But Mark continued despite his obvious emotional state.

 

“We never broke their fucking code,” he spat out. “One minute we were all living peacefully, and the next minute Jessie was waking me up in the middle of the night because the cops were at the door. She’s human, but her brother was a wolf in the pack. They came to notify next of kin.”

 

Peter took a seat at the picnic table and encouraged Mark to do the same as the man was swaying on his feet.

 

“We packed up that day and headed west. No one survived at the pack house, and we were all that was left. I was training to be an emissary, and Jessie was pregnant with Maisy. But I knew I wasn’t strong enough to protect us if they decided to come for us too, so… so we ran.”

 

Peter nodded, trying to convey to Mark that he had no judgment for their actions. It was the smartest thing the man could’ve done to keep his family safe at the time. “Did you pick up any impressions from Maisy’s room?”

 

“There’s something… something not human,” Mark agreed. “But I’ve never felt it before. Do you know what this is?”

 

Mark turned suddenly hopeful eyes at Peter, and he could only give a tight-lipped smile in return. “Witches.” He put a hand on Mark’s shoulder and gave a squeeze as the man crumpled down in despair.

 

“It’s not over yet, Mark.” He knew the man would hear his whispers through the pain. “I promise you. We’re going to do everything we can to find her. But I need to know: Was Maisy like you?”

 

Mark gave a few nods of his head though he never picked it back up. It was all Peter needed. They stayed with the Williams’ for a bit longer, but Peter let Noah know that that they needed to head back to the apartment and get started on a plan.

 

Derek shot a quick text to Lydia and Stiles to come home straight after their last class. They had their final period free for study, but they all wanted the teenagers safe in the apartment rather than on school grounds. In theory, Scott’s pack could back them up if something happened. But Peter was having a hard time trusting that to happen. They all were.

 

Peter rode up front with Noah on the drive back and asked if he would be willing to move into the apartment full time until this was over. Derek narrowed his eyes and gave his uncle a considering look. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man, but he recognized Peter was using this opportunity to ‘gather his pack’ more permanently around himself.

 

Not necessarily manipulation, but sort of. He had accepted a long time ago that even when Peter was _good,_ he was still Peter. It wasn’t like him to let an opportunity slip by if it could get him closer to his end goal. The difference was that Derek agreed with his uncle’s end goal. They had chosen these people as pack. Now they just needed to pour the concrete, so to speak.

 

In the elevator up, Peter stopped on the floor directly below the penthouse. “Derek, why don’t you head on up. Noah and I need to have a chat down here for a while.”

 

Giving Peter another narrow-eyed look, Derek shrugged okay and let the two men out before putting in the code for the top level.

 

The floor Peter and Noah exited on was a single hall with four apartments, two on either side. They obviously weren’t as big as the top floor, but they were still much larger than anything on the lower floors.

 

Peter stopped Noah at the first door on the right and pulled out a set of keys to open it. “I assume you know I own the building?” Noah nodded so Peter continued as he led them into the apartment. He let Noah take in the warm furnishings, new appliances, wood flooring. It looked like an extension of the penthouse layout. And it extended further than he thought it should if the other apartment on this side of the hall was still there.

 

“When I moved in, I made sure the two floors immediately below me were emptied. I’ve done some renovations already.” Peter told him as he led them beyond where the apartment should have ended. “The second door still needs to be sealed, and the staircase to the upper level installed, but this is already double the square footage of your current home.”

 

“Peter…” Noah let out a long sigh and took a seat on the closest surface. It was a sturdy, mahogany coffee table in front of the sofa. He gave a sweeping gesture to the room as a whole. “What is all this? Is this for Stiles?”

 

“No, Noah.” Peter remained in his spot leaning against the wall, but the look on his face was intensely focused on the business at hand. “It’s for you. After medical bills and Stiles’ stay in Eichen, and with Berkeley coming up… this make sense.”

 

Noah shook his head, but didn’t comment on the facts.

 

“And,” Peter added, “whether anyone intended it or not, Stiles has started to look at this place as home. Most of his nights are spent here. Your meals are spent here. And you’re pack. In the end, that’s the most important part of this. You’re pack. In a place like Beacon Hills, pack should be together.”

 

“There’s no way I could afford a place like this,” Noah told him while taking in the furnished apartment. It was beautiful, just like the penthouse. Say what they want about Peter Hale, but no one cold deny the man had a taste for style.

 

Peter scoffed from his place on the wall. “Noah, I own the building. Pay utilities if it means that much to you. But this makes sense. You _know_ this makes sense.” He pushed off with his shoulder to meet Noah by the sofa. “Let me show you the bedrooms. There’s an office for your casework already set up, and you can trade out any of the furnishings with the ones at your house if you want.”

 

Noah took the guided tour in silence, but Peter knew that even getting him to look at the rest of the place was as good as getting a ‘yes’ out of the man. He was proud, no one could deny that. But Peter had taken a gamble that the man’s pride would not get in the way of his and his son’s safety. And moving in here would be one step closer to that safety.

 

“I’d like it if you stayed in the penthouse until we get the elevator system to include this floor in the code and key setup.” He did his best to keep the smile of victory off his face when Noah simply nodded in agreement. He wasn’t successful.

 

“What about Lydia?” Noah asked as they took the elevator up to the top floor after locking up the apartment.

 

“Her mother is away again on a month-long cruise with her new husband.” Peter didn’t bother to hide the derision in his tone. “We already packed up her clothing from her house last week. She turns eighteen before her mother’s due back anyway, and I think she appreciates staying in the penthouse for now. If she want’s her own space later, there’s always the other apartments on your floor.”

 

Noah was shocked at the fact that her mother would miss her daughter’s birthday. And such a big one too. Seeing the girl’s interactions with his son made Noah smile lately that Stiles had finally gotten the sibling he’d always wanted.

 

For a long time, he thought that was Scott. But early in their high school career, Noah had to accept that Stiles was spending more and more time apart from the other boy. And it seemed like that time was being spent alone. He still snuck out and got caught up in wild shenanigans that Noah later learned were because of the supernatural element that had invaded the boys’ lives. But it was clear to him that the close bond he’d thought the boys had was being tested.

 

He was sad it didn’t seem like it was going to last, but he was happy Stiles had found Lydia in the chaos. The two were so entrenched in their studies together that they often seemed to be joined at the hip. And Noah had been looking at them as if he had two children instead of one for several months now.

 

It wasn’t easy to admit that Peter was offering something his finances desperately needed, but he recognized that they had all started to create a little family here, and the closeness between Lydia and his son was helping him in his decision.

 

“Stiles texted,” Derek told them as they stepped off the elevator. “They’re stopping for food but they’re on their way.”

 

Peter scoffed. “There’s food here.”

 

This earned a chuckle from Noah who asked him, “Yeah, but are there curly fries here?” They heard Peter mutter about the food choices of teenage boys as he went into the kitchen to get his own lunch started.

 

“What about Stiles?” Noah asked him as he came back out with a half-eaten sandwich and two more on plates for the others.

 

Peter raised his eyebrows in question.

 

“The apartment is for me and Stiles, right?” Noah clarified. “But I get the feeling you want him to stay here.”

 

They took a moment to bring Derek into the upcoming move into the below apartment. He gave Noah a smile which on any other person would be a megawatt grin.

 

“Stiles is… important to me,” Peter said hesitantly. Peter was never hesitant about anything, and it helped Noah remain calm and not jump to any conclusions about the man’s intentions with his still-seventeen year old son. He did tense up though.

 

Derek noticed the atmosphere shift and snorted around his sandwich. “What he’s trying to say is that he’s head over heels, in love with your son.”

 

Peter shot him a nasty look when that comment only made Noah tense up further. “I wouldn’t… Noah, I have no designs on Stiles to…”

 

Derek, cool as a cucumber in the middle of this unease got Noah’s attention back from where he was giving Peter the full ‘I am the Sheriff, I can lock you away for a long time’ glare.

 

“Noah, Peter’s in love with Stiles. No matter how many times he’ll try to convince everyone he has no emotions, it’s there. But he respects your son more than enough to know that Stiles isn’t even close to ready for that kind of relationship.” His voice was calm as he tried to deescalate the situation.

 

“If there’s anyone in this room who knows what it’s like to have your autonomy taken away, it’s Peter,” he told him with as much seriousness as this kind of discussion called for. “And he understands what I went through when a beautiful older woman manipulated a teenage boy’s emotions to drag them into hell. He would never do that to Stiles.”

 

Noah looked like he was trying to accept it, still not entirely comfortable with an adult man being interested in his much younger son. But then Peter had to jump in with his own addition.

 

“You think I’m beautiful?” He shot over to Derek with a look of such surprised flattery.

 

Derek scoffed at his uncle. “Seriously? That’s what you took away from that?”

 

“Well, every now and then it’s nice to be reminded of one’s appeal I suppose,” Peter responded in the most put-upon, high-maintenance tone he could summon. The tragic part was, Derek didn’t think it was entirely for show.

 

He let out another sigh and turned back to Noah, happy to see that the man was amused at their antics. So he figured it might turn out okay. Hopefully.

 

They left it at that when they heard the door opening to reveal Stiles and Lydia carrying full backpacks and milkshakes as the only evidence of their fast food pit stop. They dumped their school supplies on the table and Noah quietly observed how Stiles took the seat closest to Peter.

 

He also noticed how the boy ran a hand across the werewolf’s neck before taking his seat and pulling out his notebooks.

 

“Test tomorrow?” He asked them, amused to see Lydia setting up the table in an orderly fashion with texts, pens, calculators, and scrap paper.

 

“Hmm,” she sent back in agreement. “Trig test first thing tomorrow, then the online psych class has a test on Friday.”

 

“Lydia wants to get at least two hours in before dinner,” Stiles told them, already opening his books to focus on the coursework.

 

He liked seeing Stiles with this kind of determination. When Peter had gotten them to understand the ADD was likely a result of the spark, he started finding ways for Stiles to remove the excess energy back into nature. The nemeton, for all it had been a source of strife, needed the connection to clean magic. And that was something Stiles could help with while also helping himself.

 

Noah took a moment to consider Derek might have been onto something earlier. Peter had been consistent in his efforts lately to provide them with the types of support unique to their needs. He somehow saw what would benefit them, and worked to make it happen. Perhaps his interest in Stiles was romantic, but Noah was starting to really believe what Derek had said about Peter knowing he wasn’t ready for that.

 

In a way, Noah had to admit that it seemed almost sweet. Peter had been taking care of Stiles’ needs for a while now. Never pushing for more, just seeing to it that his son had what he needed. He could live with that kind of arrangement for the time being.

 

If Stiles did return Peter’s feelings, Noah had no doubt he’d pick up on it. He resigned himself to dragging it out of his son only when he was sure it would benefit the situation. Sometimes Stiles was too much like his old man. He kept things bottled up, trying to deal with them alone. But he didn’t need to, and Noah was adamant that he would break that pattern of behavior as much as he could.

 

In the meantime, he had his own plans to go over. He needed to contact a real estate agent for the house, decide what he wanted to keep and what would be donated. And then there was the coven of witches in his town to deal with.

 

There was a lot to discuss, likely over dinner tonight. But he had tomorrow off and he got the impression Peter would want to start moving in his things sooner rather than later. They left Lydia and Stiles to their own devices at the table and headed into the study to discuss the Williams case before Peter got started on preparing their evening meal.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sheriff, you in here?” Noah heard the muffled voice, though being that he could hear it where he was it was probably shouted.

 

He gave his own shout back, “In the attic!” and turned back to the boxes. It didn’t take long for Parrish’s head to pop up from the opening in the floor, and Noah welcomed the man into the space. He gave a look of gratitude when a large sweet tea was deposited into his hands. It might be northern California, but it was a warm September day and he’d been sorting through boxes for hours.

 

“So you’re really selling the place?” Jordan asked.

 

He took a seat on the closest box to wipe some of the sweat away and enjoy his beverage. “Yeah, it’s time,” he told him. “Stiles agrees, and with what Peter’s offering, it’s too good of a chance to pass up.”

 

Jordan laughed at that and mentioned, “Yeah, Peter was asking me about my own apartment a couple nights ago. I didn’t think anything of it then, but I’m sort of wondering about it now.”

 

Noah wasn’t surprised in the least. He knew the deputy had his mysteries about him, but he was a good man, if not Noah’s right-hand man. And he knew that Peter enjoyed having him around.

 

“I wouldn’t be shocked if you got your own offer sooner rather than later,” Noah told him. “Peter mentioned wanting the pack under one roof.”

 

If Jordan was surprised to hear he was considered pack, he didn’t show it. “So tell me what you need help with, and let’s get this show on the road.”

 

They worked for the next couple of hours bringing down box after box and sorting into keep, donate, sell groupings. Around half past three, Stiles and Lydia came in the front door with food from the new Mediterranean restaurant in town.

 

After a quick bite in the living room, Lydia pulled a clipboard and her phone out and commandeered the coffee table for her command center. She and took pictures of everything in the sell group, including the various pieces of furniture throughout the house, while Stiles jotted them down on the clipboard.

 

When they were discussing the move at the dinner table last night, Noah had mentioned that unless Stiles wanted to keep something, there wasn’t much from the house he wanted to bring over. There were of course items of sentimental value, but Peter had fully outfitted that apartment below. Up to and including bathroom essentials and cooking utensils.

 

Noah figured there might be a lot of donations that could come out of the move, since he had no idea how to sell it all.

 

Stiles and Lydia both gave him twin smirks at the comment. “Craigslist is your friend, dad,” Stiles had told him condescendingly.

 

“We’ll take care of it, Sheriff,” Lydia had added. Noah could already see the plans forming in her head. “So we’ll meet you over there after school tomorrow. Sound good?”

 

God help him, those two could take over the world if they gave even half an effort. But sure enough, there they were. Making notes and taking pictures.

 

“Call Derek.” He heard Lydia tell Stiles as they went up the stairs to photograph the bedroom furniture. “See if he can be available for the callers.”

 

He turned back to Jordan and grinned when he noticed the young man eyes following Lydia’s path as she disappeared upstairs. That poor boy was gone on the girl. Given that Lydia was about to turn eighteen, he figured there might be a request for a date from Jordan coming soon.

 

A shovel talk might be in the deputy’s future. And if he had to guess, he probably wouldn’t be alone in giving that talk.

 

Snorting in amusement, Noah shoved an empty box into the man’s chest. “Come on, help me empty the coat closet.”

 

The boxes were loaded up in Stiles’ Jeep and the back of the two squad cars. Noah had decided to play matchmaker a little and made sure the passenger side of the Jeep had at least three boxes in it. He did the same with his own squad car, leaving the only other open passenger seat for Lydia with Jordan.

 

She had taken to carpooling with Stiles since they were never really in different places lately. Sometimes they took her car, sometimes they took the Jeep. Since they knew they were helping move boxes that day, Stiles had driven them to school.

 

Noah shared another smile with himself when Jordan quickly made his way across the lawn to hastily open the passenger door for Lydia as they were headed out. Yeah, a shovel talk was definitely in that man’s future.

 

“Really, dad?” Stiles side-eyed him at the scene, but he had his own grin on his face as Lydia primly thanked Jordan and gracefully sat herself in the car. “He has no idea what he’s in for.”

 

“Ah,” Noah said, gripping his son’s shoulders on the way down the steps. “You know me so well.”

 

Stiles laughed and told him to make sure he let Derek and Peter in on that.

 

“Way ahead of you, bud.” He gave a giant grin before they parted to drive their respective vehicles back to the apartment building.

 

Derek met them in the parking garage and let them know that Peter wasn’t back yet. He’d told them at dinner the previous night that he wanted to get started looking into things for the Williams’ case, and Noah was thankful for the help. It also meant Noah could focus on the house, while Derek had his own tasks of dealing with the real estate agents.

 

He offered to get things rolling for the Stilinski’s home as well since he was already doing the work with the loft. It meant that since nine that morning, Derek had been on the phone with agents setting up times to visit. The furniture from his own place needed to go as well, but Lydia suggested he move it to one of the empty apartments on the floor below for now.

 

Peter had smiled at the suggestion, and he’d seen the way Derek had looked over one of the empty apartments with desire during the tour he took them on after dinner. He’d already shown Noah, but after they all discussed it over the food, the other three were more than curious.

 

Lydia had liked them, and thought the space would definitely be big enough to keep the extra two apartments as separate units. Noah had even mentioned that the apartment Peter had set up for him was bigger than he needed, but Peter wouldn’t hear of it.

 

He’d started going over what the man could use the space for, converting rooms into gyms, putting in a library, setting up a true war room. Noah wasn’t entirely convinced, but it sounded good.

 

Peter had explained that he wanted them all in the penthouse for now until security could be established for the lower floor, but he would see to it that the stairwells would be added to all three apartments as soon as that was done. Lydia would most likely be staying above for a while, but he knew Derek would need to make a space he could call his own soon.

 

Most of the boxes from the house went straight to the Stilinski apartment, but the clothing was moved directly into the penthouse bedrooms. Noah and Stiles had both kept some items of sentimental value close by, and Stiles moved his murder board into Peter’s office. Other than that, the boxes could be unpacked in the apartment later.

 

“We emptying your room tomorrow?” Stiles asked Lydia as they put together a quick pasta dish for the group.

 

She gave him a small smile and let him know, “I already took what I wanted when I got my clothes.”

 

As they’d grown closer to each other, and also to the two Hale wolves, physical touch became something of the norm between them all. Stiles saw the quick moment of sadness from Lydia and didn’t think anything of it to pull her into his body for a moment. Letting her know that he was commiserating with her, but not making her talk about it if she didn’t want to.

 

Peter returned well after dark and thanked the two for filling in for him in getting dinner on the table. Cooking was something Peter enjoyed, but it was also a somewhat less than selfless action. He wanted to provide for a pack. His pack.

 

Feeding them was a way to do that.

 

He wasn’t ignorant of where that desire came from, and he knew Derek was picking up on it as well. Peter wasn’t an alpha anymore. And when he was, his mind was too fractured to be anything close to resembling a good one. He deserved what he got last time. Maybe if Derek had known the truth about what happened that night, he wouldn’t have gone for the killing blow.

 

Or maybe he still would’ve. Peter could admit that he’d been out of control. And maybe what happened needed to happen for him to gain some perspective. He blamed Laura for taking the alpha power and not behaving like an alpha. But he hadn’t done much better himself.

 

Still, he knew that the feelings and the planning were all stemming from his mind being completely convinced that he had a pack around him now to protect. And those instincts didn’t come from nowhere.

 

“Did you get anywhere on the Williams case?” Derek’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. He helped himself to a bowl of pasta and gestured for his nephew to follow him back out to the living room, leaving Lydia and Stiles to their studies at the dining table.

 

“I know where they aren’t,” he started. “But other than traces of them in the preserve, I haven’t nailed down where they’re staying.”

 

Noah and Jordan were already in the room, but they muted the television when they realized the conversation was turning to the case.

 

“Do you have any idea what they want her for?” Noah asked.

 

Peter took a bite before replying. “With witches, especially dark witches, it’s hard to tell. They could want her spark, or they could want her for a ritual.”

 

Noah became slightly alarmed at the mention of a spark, which took the conversation down a road of explaining the dangers Stiles and others like him faced from witches.

 

“That ‘bad smell’ you picked up on Jordan, was likely the scent of sewage I was telling Noah about. It’s how you identify the light from the dark witches,” Peter told the young man. “Light witches will often smell like flowers, something sweet but also fresh and clean. Dark witches carry traces of the black magic they work with. They can hide in plain sight all they want, but that smell will always give them away.”

 

Jordan nodded in acceptance. He didn’t know what kind of _other_ he was, but he knew his senses and instincts were a sign of something. Plus, a normal human didn’t just walk away from an explosion like he did. He wasn’t a wolf, but he knew he could learn how to refine his senses from Peter and Derek, and he was more than eager if they were offering.

 

Peter finished his meal and continued. “If they wanted her for her spark, we’d find the body tonight or tomorrow. They would have no reason to keep it around. If they want her for a ritual, I’d say we have about a week.”

 

“They’d want to wait for the full moon,” Derek suggested.

 

“Exactly,” Peter smiled at him. “Using the full moon would fit into a ritual. And the fact that they took the girl and not her father makes me think it’s more ritual than a power grab.”

 

He filled them in on the fact that Mark was also a spark, and the ritual theory gained a lot of credibility with the others after that. It was good. Not for Maisy, but it meant they had a week to find her.

 

There was also the matter of the Williams as a whole. Peter wanted to bring them into the fold, and Derek backed him up immediately.

 

“I’d think they would want to be involved in the search for their daughter,” Noah added.

 

“My thinking exactly,” Peter said. “Also, having Mark work with Stiles could be beneficial to them both. If the Williams’ have been here all this time, and the nemeton has been left alone, Mark might not know about it. Stiles has ties to the tree, and could help his fellow spark ground himself. It would do wonders for the nemeton if it accepts him. And it might help in finding the girl.”

 

Noah looked confused. “The nemeton would help? How would that be?”

 

“Think of it as an energy feedback loop,” Peter explained. “When Stiles feeds his energy into the nemeton, its more chaos than anything usable. When the nemeton accepts that energy, it ‘cleans’ it in a sense. What comes back to Stiles is malleable, he can structure it to his will. He can use it.”

 

“I thought it was just meditation,” Noah said, still wrapping his brain around the fact that his son was capable of magic. _Manipulation of natural energy. Not Magic, Noah_ he heard Peters voice in his head. The man had tried to explain it many times at this point. Noah still called it magic.

 

Peter smiled at him. “The meditation helps him get into the right headspace for the energy transfer, but its like a diving board. He has to be on the diving board in order to jump into the water.”

 

“We’re headed back to their house tomorrow,” Jordan brought up. “Might be a good time to suggest it to them.”

 

They all agreed, but Peter added, “Either way, I’ll be patrolling tonight. Jordan, if you’re up for it I’d like you to come with me. But I don’t want the two of them left alone here.” He motioned behind him to the dining room. “So Derek and Noah, would you be able to stay and keep watch until we get back?”

 

That got a quick “yeah” and “of course” out of the men.

 

They waited until Stiles and Lydia put their books away before filling them in on the plan. Stiles was excited to meet Mark. Maybe excited wasn’t the right word. He knew the man was probably freaking out with his daughter missing. But he was happy to help where he could.

 

“Has anyone thought about bringing Scott in on this?” Lydia asked. And wasn’t that a tough question for the room. Everyone was silent for long enough that Derek finally spoke up.

 

“If we do tell him,” he posed, “and he dismisses it, then we’re in a boat where he knows we’re essentially working against his wishes.”

 

“And what would that child be able to do about it?” Peter shot back.

 

Derek didn’t rise to the bait, but Stiles jumped in for him. “We’re not in a position to be on opposite sides yet. Lydia and I still see them every day in school, so that could get difficult. And this place needs wards that won’t be finished until the renovations are done.”

 

Noah gave his son an appreciative look for keeping his head in the strategy game, even if he was talking about Scott as if he was already someone to keep out.

 

Peter also had an appreciative look on his face, but Noah guessed there was more going on in that look than he knew.

 

“We’ll have the apartments done by October, but this brings up a good point.” Peter was all business again as he leaned forward in his seat. “The witches will need to be dealt with in the next week. We can’t wait on the renovations or the wards for that.”

 

“I mean,” Stiles started, “I could try and put some together…”

 

Peter flatly refused the suggestion. “No. Until you have the time to focus on your spark, I’m not sure I want you trying to pull something like that off.”

 

If they could get Mark and Jessie to come under the protection of the pack, there was a chance he’d come further in his studies to be able to set up wards. But they would need to wait until the morning to ask.

 

It was agreed that if Scott and his pack found out, they’d deal with it. He wouldn’t be happy, and he’d likely see Stiles and Lydia as having betrayed the pack to side with Peter. But a missing child took precedence over a teenaged alpha’s hurt feelings. And unless Deaton had tricks up his sleeve no one knew about, Peter wasn’t worried if it came to actual violence between the two packs.

 

He may not have red eyes, but Peter could feel the bonds in the room strengthening each other. And he knew they could hold their own against the boy if they needed to.

 

* * *

 

Getting Jordan on board with relocating was easier than Peter had originally thought. He’d planted the seed a week or so ago, and when the deputy saw the others starting to come together, Peter only had to ask during their patrol. He said yes.

 

He didn’t have much in the way of belongings, certainly not enough for a full carload beyond clothing. Of the five bedrooms in the penthouse, all five were already occupied. Jordan took the couch in the study the first night and Peter was pleased when Stiles and Lydia offered to room together the next morning at breakfast.

 

“Relax dude,” Stiles muttered over to the man, then groaned as he took his first sip of the coffee Peter put in front of him. “Pretty sure I’m gay. There’s no amount of sharing a bed with this goddess,” he threw his arm out towards Lydia, “that’s gonna change that now.”

 

Peter smirked into his breakfast, Derek looked up with no expression whatsoever, Noah was happy he hadn’t had anything in his mouth at the time, and Lydia looked over at Stiles as though she couldn’t be bothered to understand why that was significant.

 

“Well, I mean…” Jordan searched for the right words. “That’s um… I mean that’s up to you guys. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

 

“As long as you’re cool with some of my stuff staying in the room, It’s cool man.” Stiles liked Jordan, really. And he wasn’t trying to be so flippant, but there was a buzzing in his head since he woke up that was making things a little difficult.

 

Peter noticed immediately based on Stiles’ tone. It wasn’t like him. Seeing the tired look on the boy’s face even after inhaling the coffee he got up from the table and grabbed a box of tissues from a nearby shelf.

 

Besides Lydia and Peter, no one at the table had been present for one of Stiles’ episodes. They weren’t really episodes exactly, but there were times when the energy buildup was too much for him. Without an outlet like the nemeton, Stiles had nowhere to release it.

 

“Noah, you might want to call Stiles out of school for the morning.” Peter told him as he came up behind Stiles’ chair.

 

“What?” Stiles exclaimed. Almost as soon as he twisted his head up towards Peter to insist there was no reason for him to miss school, a steady trickle of blood started to drip from his nose.

 

Peter held out the tissue out and was met with a confused look from Stiles until he felt the blood reach his mouth. Lydia was already getting a cold bottle of water from the fridge to put on the back of his neck. He gave her a muffled thanks and excused himself to the bathroom.

 

“He needs to head to the nemeton this morning,” Peter told Noah with a slight tinge of anger in his tone. He was more upset with himself than anything else, and they could tell. “I knew he needed to go after that damn meeting. I should’ve taken him.”

 

“Hey,” Lydia called over sharply. “He’s a big boy. If he needed to go out there, he could’ve taken himself. We’ll get it taken care of today, and I’ll give him a little hell about not taking care of himself. It’ll be fine.”

 

Noah couldn’t tell if she was being protective over Stiles or Peter in this instance, but he figured it was a bit of both. The room was filled with people very suited to the roll of caretaker, so he supposed they were lucky it wasn’t one constant session of mother henning.

 

“Does this hurt him?” He asked the two of them, hoping to break up the staring contest. But also very interested in the answer. Stiles used to get nosebleeds as a kid, and the doctors assured Noah and Claudia that it was nothing to worry about. Thousands of people got them, and they didn’t necessarily mean something was wrong. It just happened.

 

But Peter made it sound like it was tied to his son’s abilities. And that was new.

 

“No,” Lydia finally answered. “We read about how some sparks get nosebleeds when their energy levels get too high. The pure energy at least. He just needs to head out to the nemeton to work it out.”

 

Derek took the whole thing in stride, but Peter figured he would. He grew up in a pack of wolves, seeing a spark needing to release some energy was par for the course. “This might be a good time to bring the Williams’ into things.” He suggested.

 

“Hmm. Yes, this is rather convenient timing,” Peter agreed. “If Mark sees a young spark in need of guiding, he might be more inclined to join us.”

 

Lydia gave him a disapproving glare. “Careful, Peter. Your scheming side is showing.”

 

“Oh for the love… You were all thinking it.” Peter threw his hands up and stalked off into the apartment to check on Stiles.

 

Noah was about to do that very thing himself, but he thought it might do some good keeping Peter calm to let him do it instead. And if Stiles had been handling the situation with Peter so far, it might be better for him as well.

 

“He does have a point, though,” Jordan threw in. “And we’re headed over there now anyway. Why not bring Stiles along?”

 

“I’ll go call the school,” Noah decided. “Lydia, will he be missing anything today?”

 

She shook her head. “No, we had that test yesterday. But we’ll need to focus on studying for the psych test tomorrow.”

 

“How about I call you both out sick for today and swing by the school to pick up your assignments,” he offered. Lydia’s returning smile was enough to get Noah up and doing just that.

 

The trip to the Williams’ home was attended by the whole crew minus the Sheriff. He headed off to the school to collect their work, while the rest of them piled into two cars to head over. As Lydia knew he would be, Peter was in protective/worry mode with Stiles. She thought he’d be lucky if the man let him our of arms reach for the rest of the morning.

 

Mark recognized Stiles as one of his own immediately upon seeing him. And he knew exactly what was happening seconds after that thanks to the tissue stuffed up his nose. Jessie ushered them into the home and took to fussing over Stiles right alongside Peter.

 

He didn’t mind Jessie’s attention in the least. Her daughter had been missing for days now. If she saw a young spark in need of support, and wanted to use that to keep her mind occupied, no one was going to call her on it.

 

Derek and Peter explained the plan about the nemeton with Mark. As suspected, the man had no idea it was there. And he knew there was a chance it wouldn’t accept him, especially since it seemed it had already chosen a spark to bond with. But if he brought Stiles there, it might welcome him. It was worth a shot.

 

With support from the nemeton’s energy, there was a chance he could get rid of the masking spells blocking his ability to locate Maisy. He could feel she was still close, but anytime he tried to focus on locating her, his mind scattered. Add in another spark, even a young one, and his chances only increased.

 

Honestly, it wasn’t a hard sell. Jessie wasn’t sure about staying in the apartment really, until Peter explained that the Stilinski apartment was still separated from the pack by a floor, but by the end of the day it would take a code and a key to access it.

 

They agreed to stay in one of the guest bedrooms as long as the Sheriff was okay with it, and the group split up to sort out their own tasks. Jordan was staying with Jessie as her shadow for the day. Derek had real estate and Craigslist appointments for the house and loft respectively. And Peter, Lydia, and Mark were accompanying Stiles to the nemeton to do ‘spark stuff’.

 

They still didn’t know where the witches were. But there was a confidence felt by all that with two sparks on the case, they had the best shot they were going to get at finding Maisy.


	3. Chapter 3

Stopping roughly twenty feet from the nemeton, Stiles froze. Everything about him was still to the point that Peter wasn’t sure he was still breathing.

 

For a few moments, he wasn’t.

 

Mark and Peter were both accompanying him along with Lydia, but after he had stopped his movement the others quickly followed. Almost subconsciously, Peter pulled Lydia a closer to himself. While he was close enough to Stiles to feel confident he could protect him if needed, he was also aware that this was part of Stiles’ growth as a spark.

 

He felt something, that much was evident. And Peter wanted to foster his inquisitiveness. Development of his abilities was crucial right now. And with things in Beacon Hills shaping up the way they were, trouble would be at their doorstep soon.

 

Mark stepped up beside Stiles as his gaze took in the clearing surrounding the large tree stump. “What’s different?” He asked quietly.

 

Stiles took a few moments to reply, but eventually answered just as quietly, “I don’t know.” He took a few steps closer before sharply turning his head to the left. There was nothing there. No sounds, no wind, no birds. “Something was here. The nemeton’s upset.”

 

He cautiously made his way closer, feeling no resistance from the tree. That was good at least.

 

Peter didn’t want to stay back, but he could feel a strange vibration radiating through him when he even thought about moving closer. The tree knew Stiles. It trusted Stiles. And even Lydia seemed to sense that it was wary of the others.

 

Once Stiles had made it close enough to touch, he let out a pained groan that had Peter stepping closer despite the discomfort. Without turning around, Stiles seemed to be aware of his movements and shot out a hand behind him to get Peter to wait.

 

They could see him murmuring something to the tree as he bent at the waist and pressed his forehead into the ancient rings. It took a few more minutes with the three of them standing on the outside for Stiles to stand back up and call for Mark to come closer.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said when he turned to Peter and Lydia. “It’s not okay with more people right now.”

 

Peter nodded and kept his eyes focused on the pair of sparks standing in front of the tree, but the rest of his senses were searching their surroundings, checking for any sign that they weren’t alone. He could hear Stiles and Mark talking though, that would have to be enough for right then.

 

“Do you know why it’s upset?” Mark asked. He had no connection to the nemeton. And while he could now feel it, he couldn’t read it.

 

Stiles nodded and pointed to the center of the stump where a small crevice was empty. “There was a sapling in there last week.” Stiles told him. “Someone ripped it out.”

 

He crawled on top of the circle and crossed his legs underneath himself. Both hands were placed palm down on the wood. Gesturing with his head for Mark to do the same on the other side, he began taking deep calming breaths.

 

“Do you have any energy stored right now?” He asked the other spark, though he kept his eyes closed.

 

“Yeah,” Mark smiled back. He was happy to see the young man so willing to help the tree, so accepting of its bond. “With everything going on, my energy’s just been building. I’ll help as much as I can.”

 

“Does stress build energy faster?” Stiles asked. Mark noticed his eyes stayed closed, and his voice was just a touch away from monotone. He was already going into a trance, but aware enough to have a conversation. _Impressive_ he thought.

 

“It does, yes,” he answered as he got into his own headspace for the energy transfer, his words slow but steady. “For the right kind of stress, at least. Some stress can be good. Anticipation of a happy event can be stress, but it’s not a bad thing. Your spark responds when you’re in distress though. It knows something is wrong, and is giving you the ability to protect yourself.”

 

Stiles and Lydia had absorbed everything about sparks and banshees Peter could find for them, but hearing about it from someone else like him was almost better in a way.

 

“When you fed it your energy before, did you focus on creating a sapling?” Mark asked.

 

Stiles frowned slightly and told him, “No, not really. I wanted it to be able to heal. The sapling was just there one day after I got done.”

 

Mark hummed back and told Stiles to picture that sapling, what it looked like when he first saw it. Then imagine it growing.

 

The two directed their focus solely on the nemeton, and the talking stopped for a good, long while. Peter knew they wouldn’t be keeping track of time, and after the first hour passed by, he settled himself and Lydia against a nearby cluster of trees.

 

After almost two more hours had gone by, Peter heard Mark murmur to Stiles, “Stay deep. Don’t come back up yet… Can you hear me?”

 

Stiles sent back a soft, “hmmm” as an acknowledgement.

 

“Focus on the area right around the tree,” Mark coached him. “Feel it like it’s a barrier, a wall between everything in here and everything outside.” He waited a few moments for Stiles to indicate that he had it. “Good. Very good. What do you want to keep out?”

 

Stiles spent at least two minutes without a response that Peter thought he might not have heard the other man. He and Lydia were both watching the two of them avidly, but with his ears being better than hers, he was the only one who could make out the voices.

 

“Things that want to hurt it,” Stiles eventually responded. “Everything that can hurt it.”

 

“Everything?” Mark asked. “Peter could hurt it if he wanted to. But you know he won’t. You and I could hurt it if we wanted to.”

 

Stiles let out a small sound of distress at that, and Mark added, “But we wouldn’t do that. There are a lot of things that _could_ hurt it. But what do you _need_ to keep out?”

 

“Things that want to hurt it,” he repeated his original statement.

 

Mark hummed softly in praise. “Good, Stiles. Very good.” He let the boy sit with that thought for a few more minutes, then continued. “Focus on your wall. Make it strong. Visualize the energy surrounding that wall. What color is it?”

 

“Brown…” Stiles answered. But almost as a question. “Red…” he added. “It looks like a rust color.”

 

“That’s good, Stiles.” Mark was more impressed with the young spark than when they started, and that was saying something. “Do you feel like it’s strong enough?” He waited for Stiles to agree and quickly added _perfectionist_ to the list of qualities he was learning about him when he didn’t get a response for another ten minutes.

 

“Okay now, Stiles. I want you to start to push that wall out.” He knew that if anything would be truly challenging for Stiles with this session, it would be expanding a barrier. “Keep it steady. Only move as fast as you can without damaging the structure.”

 

It was cool in the shade of the canopy, but Peter and Lydia could both see perspiration start to break out on Stiles’ face. His brows were knit closely together, determined in his concentration.

 

“That’s it, Stiles,” Mark encouraged. “Go slowly. Stop when you reach the edge of the clearing. That’s the nemeton’s area. It’ll help you keep the space. It wants you to keep it.”

 

Both sparks still had their eyes closed, but they were seeing what was underneath. The pure energy from their surroundings was vivid in this state.

 

Mark’s face shifted into a small but proud smile. “There you go. Hold it there and make sure it’ll stay. Take as long as you need.”

 

Peter was sitting right next to the edge of the clearing. He could feel the barrier getting closer as Stiles had been working, and even now he could feel it becoming more substantive. It wasn’t necessarily a tangible thing, but it was strong. He had no ill intentions towards the tree, but he could feel that the barrier would be strong enough to hold out something that did.

 

“Good, Stiles,” Mark said again a short while later. “Start to come back up. The wall will hold. You know it will hold. Believe that and start to step back.”

 

Several minutes passed before Mark spoke again. He was concentrating hard, and Peter tried not to worry at the tense look on his face. “Can you hear me Stiles?” he waited for a response and got the smallest mutter in return. “Okay, I want you to picture a staircase. Do you have it?” Another few moments went by. “Good. I’m standing at the top of the stairs. But you’re still at the bottom. Slowly take a step up.”

 

He guided Stiles over the next hour to take step after step. The closer he got, the more vocal Stiles’ responses became. But it was a slow process and sometimes Stiles himself seemed resistant to moving forward. Mark gently encouraged him to keep going, letting him know that the nemeton was safe now with the barrier in place. Stiles didn’t need to stay there in order for the wall to work, it would remain solid as long as he believed it would.

 

On a particularly few tough steps, Mark reminded Stiles that the rest of the pack was on the top step with him, and that they needed Stiles to come back up to them. To say Peter was terrified would be an understatement. And it wasn’t until he called out the boy’s name that Stiles’ frown started to relax and progress was made.

 

When he finally opened his eyes, Mark was looking back at him. There was a mixture of amusement and pride on his face. He nodded down to the new sapling in the crevice and smiled over to his fellow spark. “Have a good time?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered, amazed at the beginnings of a new tree, already double what it had been before. “I don’t think it felt like anything. I was just… there.”

 

They’d been sitting in the same position for long enough that they were both moving slowly as they climbed down. Peter and Lydia were standing again but they waited on the edge of the clearing until they crossed over.

 

Instantly, Peter grabbed Stiles into a hug. They were very nearly the same height, but Peter had a couple inches and werewolf strength enough that he lifted him off the ground and walked a few steps away for good measure.

 

“Peter, I’m fine,” Stiles chuckled out, even though he pressed his nose against the man’s neck and relaxed into the hold. Both of them spent a few moments breathing the other one in. Lydia and Mark remained silent.

 

On the walk back Mark explained that the deep state was both an easy and difficult thing to achieve. Most likely, the nemeton had aided Stiles’ journey, latching on and dragging him closer after experiencing an attack.

 

The danger in going that deep was that a spark almost always needed a guide back out. Mark was confident that he could act as that guide, but it was tremendously helpful that Peter had been there.

 

“You should never try that alone out here,” Mark told him. “When we started the energy feed, I could feel the ley lines in the land. They all converge here. It makes the nemeton powerful, but it can also be dangerous. Ley lines are easy to get lost in.”

 

All three of them were listening keenly to the more experienced voice. “The nemeton wanted to keep you close, Stiles. I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad thing. But it’s not human; it doesn’t think like a human. To the nemeton, keeping you close might mean keeping you from ever leaving. You have an anchor. That’s good, use that.”

 

Peter smiled at the thought, knowing where Mark was headed. Stiles was still working it out.

 

Within a few steps though, he asked, “Peter?” He’d been aware of his pack when he was climbing the stairs back up, but it wasn’t until he heard Peter’s voice calling for him that he remembered how good it felt being around them. And that thought pushed him to get closer.

 

“Yes,” Mark confirmed. “If you plan on doing something like that again, make sure he’s with you.”

 

“That’s not a suggestion, Stiles,” Lydia added. “We’ve been out here almost six hours. Imagine where we’d be if Peter wasn’t with us.”

 

Stiles seemed shocked by the amount of time that had passed. He didn’t argue at all when Peter tucked him closer into his body and softly ordered into his ear, “You will never do that without me, understand?”

 

He nodded before he even looked up at Peter’s face. There was resolve there, but Stiles could make out the traces of anxiety lingering on the edges. Peter had been worried. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, but it was enough of a jolt to his system that he accepted the seriousness of the situation.

 

“Promise,” he whispered back and snuck an arm around Peter’s waist for a quick squeeze. He held on for the entire trip back to the cars without thinking about it once.

 

* * *

  

Back at the apartment, Mark parted ways with the rest of them on the lower floor. Derek had met them in the garage and handed the keys to the elevator and Stilinski apartment to the older spark. Jessie was already inside with Jordan unpacking the clothing she'd picked up into one of the guest bedrooms. She hadn't brought everything, but it was enough for a two week stay at least.

 

She’d been insistent on bringing Maisy’s things along with them. No one had a word to say against it.

 

Peter had brought up the subject on the ride back once they had refueled with plenty of carbs and electrolytes. Mark felt better about the situation than he had before. Part of his meditation with the nemeton had been the requisite greetings and showing respect, giving the spark and the tree time to learn each other. But during the energy transfer, he’d expressed as many emotions about the circumstances as he could.

 

He shared his worries and hopes about the witches and his daughter, and the nemeton answered back. It knew the coven was close to its territory, and it wasn’t happy about it. It his mind, he saw the land stretched out with bright lights sporadically scattered throughout. Some were strong, vibrant colors, while others appeared sickly or diseased. He knew he was seeing the supernatural beings spread across Beacon Hills.

 

The nemeton had shown him who was a friend and who was an adversary. What was troubling to him, was the number of adversaries he was shown.

 

“Stiles, call your dad,” Lydia said as soon as Mark told them about the lights. “Have him bring home a map of Beacon Hills.”

 

They had a plan. Mark assured them he would be up as soon as he told Jessie about the nemeton and the pack reached out to place soothing hands on his shoulders or arms. They knew his emotions were probably pretty high, and that the sooner they found Maisy the better for everyone involved.

 

Mark had let them know about his experiences with witches over their food earlier. They were dangerous in covens, not so much alone. Covens, the dark ones, could see when a threat was coming. And depending on the size of the coven itself, that forewarning could prevent some of the strongest offensive attacks. And there was no doubt the Hale pack would be on the offensive.

 

But he knew where Maisy was. Not street name and number, but he saw a bright light surrounded by ugly, angry lights during the meditation. He had a general area. Getting her out of there would be more difficult. Her light was strong and healthy when he pressed further, which assured him a little, but he was worried about getting too close. He didn’t want them knowing he could see them.

 

The full moon was coming up though. And a coven was vulnerable at exactly one time: when they were in the middle of a ritual. It required their attention to be focused entirely on achieving their goal. It left them open for an attack.

 

If they played this right, the coven would have no idea they were coming. If they were fast enough, they could wipe them out long before any harm came to his daughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles and Lydia had timed the next morning to arrive at the school with a good twenty minutes before the first bell rang. They had cut out the normal stop for coffee when Derek realized what they were doing and started preparing travel mugs for them both in the morning.

 

The twenty minutes gave them time to unload their books in their lockers and prepare for their first class before they went to homeroom. Unfortunately, homeroom meant Scott and Malia. The rest of their classes for the day were advanced learning, which the other two didn’t have the grades to attend. The rest of the McCall pack was at least a year behind, so no worries there either.

 

“Hey, man,” Scott whispered over to him a couple minutes into the mandatory half-hour they had to be in there. Normally, Stiles used that time to review any notes he needed for his classes of the day, and with it being Friday, he and Lydia had to use the last period for the psych exam. He felt prepared, but never said no to a little more study time.

 

“Hey, where were you two yesterday?” Scott asked even though Stiles hadn’t looked up.

 

“I wasn’t feeling well in the morning,” Stiles answered back. He didn’t bother to whisper, and he didn’t know why Scott did. They were allowed to talk in homeroom as long as they didn’t get too loud. “My dad signed me and Lydia out to keep it from getting worse.”

 

Scott looked confused. “Why’s your dad signing Lydia out? Is he allowed to do that?”

 

“Cause her mom’s on a cruise in the middle of the ocean,” Stiles shot back. He continued to review his notes, pulling out the textbook to compare. He hoped Scott got the hint.

 

No dice. “Oh. So anyways, Deaton wanted me to tell you to come to the clinic tonight. He wants to talk to you about something.”

 

Stiles didn’t believe for a minute that Scott was being vague because they were surrounded by ‘civilians.’ He fully expected that Scott had no idea what Deaton wanted to talk about, because Deaton wouldn’t have told him. It was almost intriguing, but not enough for Stiles to make himself vulnerable in a small room with the druid.

 

“Can’t,” he sent back. “Lydia and I have plans. Helping out at the local Sheriff’s office when they’re understaffed looks really good on college applications.”

 

The thing about lying to werewolves was that it was actually pretty easy. As long as Stiles stuck to true statements there was nothing to ping as deceit. He and Lydia did have plans, they had a psych test and then the planning for Maisy. And volunteer work did look good on applications, but they’d already been accepted into Berkeley, and had no intention of being at the sheriff’s office that night.

 

“Oh, alright man, that’s cool,” Scott stuttered back. Clearly he was surprised at Stiles turning down the plans. “I’ll tell him, I guess.”

 

And that was the problem with Scott. He wasn’t aware of anything going on with Stiles and Lydia because he never asked about their lives. He didn’t know Ms. Martin was away on a month-long cruise. He didn’t know that Lydia’s birthday was coming up. He didn’t know the Stilinski’s and Lydia had moved in with Peter, that they were selling the house, because he couldn’t be bothered to come by lately.

 

But he fully expected them to drop everything when he wanted them to be somewhere.

 

“So did Derek tell you he was leaving town?” Scott asked, changing tracks.

 

Stiles wanted to laugh. He looked up at Lydia sitting two seats ahead of them, one aisle over. She had obviously heard them, but apart from a tilt of her head, she wasn’t planning on engaging in the conversation.

 

“What makes you think he left town?” Stiles asked. He really was amused, and this just highlighted how uninvolved Scott had been in the ‘packs’ lives lately, but he kept a straight face.

 

“I went by the loft last night and all the furniture’s gone.” Scott told him. “The door wasn’t locked or anything, but the place is cleared out. And I could smell that people had been there, but I didn’t recognize any of them. Movers, I guess?”

 

Scott really wasn’t good at being aware of his surroundings. Stiles didn’t think it was the smart move to talk about scenting rooms for strange people in a room full of high schoolers.

 

“Huh. Makes sense then.” He turned over to the end of the chapter in his text, checking to see how the practice questions were asked. Their online instructor tended to stick to the author’s questions during the exams, so he liked referencing them when he read through the chapters.

 

“Yeah, I mean he was always pretty unreliable, though. Deaton said we should’ve expected it.” Scott missed the tension in Stiles after that comment. “Hey, maybe he took Peter with him wherever he went. That would be awesome at least.”

 

A couple deep breaths help him keep his voice steady as he responded. “Well, they’re family. So I think they’d probably stick together.”

 

“Right? God, let’s hope. One less psycho to worry about.” He really was bad at knowing Stiles’ tells.

 

A quick look up to the clock bolted to the wall let him know that the homeroom period wasn’t even half over. He let out a sigh and chose not to comment. Hoping _again_ that Scott would drop the conversation.

 

He didn’t, and Stiles spent the rest of the time giving non-answers and half-hearted replies to all of his comments. Scott never noticed the difference.

 

They had breathing room for the rest of the day. Lunch was spent in the library with the food Peter had packed for them, and they chose to head back to the apartment to take their test in the study rather than sit in the school for it.

 

Some days the pack stopped them in the hall to talk, but ever since school started back up, Stiles and Lydia’s days were much of the same. They focused on their work and interacted very little with their peers outside of group projects inside the classroom. They were graduating in a few months. And while the rest of the class were in an ‘I’m a senior now, I don’t have to worry about anything’ mood, the two of them maintained their focus. They were close, so close to being done with the place. There was no room to slack off now.

 

 _Three more months_ became the mantra they would say to each other when anything got too annoying. It had worked for them so far.


	4. Chapter 4

Noah had just finished his Friday shift. A little later than normal, but still within at a reasonable hour. Making his way across the apartment to his guest room, he took quick stock of the people spread out across the living room. He expected the pack, but was happy to see the Williams’ had joined them.

 

He changed quickly, forgoing the shower for the end of the evening and graciously accepted the plate of food waiting for him in the kitchen. Gone were the days of Stiles filling his plate with cardboard. Peter had taken over the cooking duties and ensured every meal was both tasty and inside Stiles’ acceptable ‘healthy’ parameters.

 

He handed the maps of the county off to Lydia as he took a seat in one of the open armchairs. They’d obviously been at this conversation for a while, so he focused on catching up while he ate.

 

After listening for a solid chunk of time, he thought he had a fair enough understanding to ask, “If we know where they are,” Noah gestured to the area of the map Mark had circled in red. “Why are we waiting?”

 

Just like he’d done with Stiles and the others earlier, Mark explained about covens being able to sense when they were in danger.

 

“Okay, but what if it’s the Sheriff’s Department coming for a visit?” he suggested.

 

“Noah, there is no way Stiles would let you be the one to knock on that door,” Peter told him, with Stiles vehemently shaking his head from his spot on the couch. “And what if you sent in some deputies… What? They’d find Maisy. And then what happens when they try to take her? The coven would just let them walk out the front door?”

 

Peter had made his point, but he kept going to make it clear. “No. They’d kill whoever we sent in there. They’d do the same if we attacked them outright.” He paused for a moment, then tilted his face upwards in thought, “Maybe we should send in Scott. He’s the alpha after all, wouldn’t it be the friendly thing to do to welcome the dark and dangerous coven of witches to the neighborhood?”

 

No one was fooled by the faux innocent tone. No one.

 

But it got a chuckle from Derek.

 

“We’re not sending in Scott,” Stiles let him know. “Or anyone else. Mark, would they do the ritual in the same place they’re in right now?”

 

That was an interesting thought for the room, and took them down another rabbit trail. If the coven stayed where they were, it would give the group time to scope the area out and plan the best place for an attack.

 

Mark thought they might move into the preserve though. Being surrounded by nature was helpful for rituals, even if the magic they were using was corrupt itself.

 

“Can you see this map in your head?” Jordan asked.

 

Mark settled into the cushion he was on and concentrated for a few minutes. “Yeah, I got it.” He had his eyes closed, and the rest of the room’s occupants could tell he was centering his energies back to the vision he’d had at the nemeton. “It’s not a picture, I can see the town. The lights are moving. I can see Maisy.”

 

Jessie leaned into him for comfort, but was careful not to disturb the meditation. Without opening his eyes, Mark reached down for her hand and they both relaxed a little more at the contact.

 

They spent a while longer ensuring everyone was on the same page with plans for staying ahead of the coven. Jordan and Noah would check out the area the next day during patrols. It shouldn’t strike anyone as strange that law enforcement was driving the streets.

 

As long as they didn’t stop in the vicinity of the coven’s house, they shouldn’t raise any alarms.

 

Mark and Stiles were going to be working on wards for the apartment. Stiles didn’t know why he’d been shocked when Mark told the rest of the pack over dinner that he had created a very strong, defensible ward at the nemeton. To his thinking, wards were something that would require sigils and chanting.

 

But the older spark explained that their abilities were more or less tied to nature. They didn’t _cast spells_ so much as they pulled the energy in from their surroundings and molded it to fit their intent. It was a lot about visualization and belief.

 

He’d created the wards at the nemeton. So clearly, he was capable of the task. Now he just needed to see if it could be done for a building, when he didn’t have the tree giving him a constant influx of energy.

 

It wasn’t a failproof thing though, even if he got them up. There’d been wards on the Williams’ home, and the coven still got in. And Mark hadn’t even known.

 

Mark explained that he thought the wards on his home were still the reason he woke up that night. The coven had somehow dampened them enough to take Maisy without alerting the spark who set them. Which was concerning enough considering it would take a lot of power to do something like that. But Mark had woken up for no discernable reason afterwards. He believed it was when their spell had been dropped and the witches were already gone.

 

While Mark and Stiles worked on wards, Peter was reluctant to be too far away. He planned on staying in the apartment if there was any possible chance Stiles might need him. Though he assured them he wouldn’t interfere unless they asked.

 

Jessie and Lydia were staying as well. They had a full library at their disposal in the penthouse and were happy to read what they could about dealing with witches. Mark, Peter, and Derek were all confident in their understanding of witches, but there was always the chance that the girls would find something that could help.

 

“Derek,” Lydia called. “How’s the house coming?”

 

“About half empty.” He answered. “I was able to get a lot out of there today, but there’s more scheduled for tomorrow. I could get a truck and pack up the donation piles tomorrow, too. After that, it’s ready to be turned over to the property management company.”

 

He’d already discussed with Noah that the Property Manager for the loft was happy to take on the house as well. It meant that they would keep the yard mowed and the house maintained until it sold so Noah didn’t need to worry about it.

 

“I already emptied the loft yesterday, so after tomorrow both places are out of our hands.” Derek let out a sigh that spoke more to the hour than the topic. It was getting late and everyone’s day had been busy, they were all ready to turn in.

 

Not just yet though. “Yeah about that,” Stiles said as he looked over at Derek. “Apparently Scott thinks you skipped town.”

 

The raised eyebrows that got were just as impressive as ever. “Excuse me?”

 

“He told me he stopped by the loft last night and saw that it was empty. I guess that Deaton told him you probably left town? He was hoping you took Peter with you.” Stiles had an amusedly exhausted tone, but Peter perked right up.

 

“Oh really…” Peter remarked around a smirk. “That might work out well.”

 

“Oh my god, Peter.” Stiles swept a hand through the air. “What the hell are you planning?”

 

He didn’t get an answer, just a bigger smirk from the other man, but Lydia let out a snort of laughter and got up from her seat.

 

“I think it’s well past time to get some sleep,” she addressed the room. “Stiles are you coming?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered back as he got himself up to follow her. “Night, dad,” he mumbled as he stopped for a quick hug.

 

Noah was happy to see Stiles happy. It was even better that he was tired for a good reason. The coven notwithstanding, Stiles had been developing his skills as a spark and focusing on his academic studies. It was a good sort of tired, and very different from the months during and immediately after the nogitsune.

 

He also caught the quick ‘good night’ Stiles gave to Peter before he left the room. It wasn’t a hug, but he watched as Stiles stepped into Peter’s space where he was still sitting on his chair, and quickly ran his hand through the man’s hair to rest for a moment on the side of his neck.

 

Peter tilted his head up a fraction and gave a soft smile and a quiet murmur “sleep well,” to the boy, but other than that, he stayed where he was.

 

Noah knew his son. And if Stiles didn’t know he was deeply attached to Peter by now, he had no doubt the realization would rear its head soon.

 

Spending more and more time observing their interactions, and in particular, Peters actions, he was growing a little more accepting of the idea. Theoretically, of course. He was nowhere near ready to see anything concrete come of this. Not yet, at least.

 

* * *

 

“Jessie?” Lydia called into the Stilinski apartment after the pack had left for a bit. Mark and Stiles were headed back to the Williams’ home to collect more, if not the rest of the Williams’ book collection and there was no way Peter was going to leave Stiles’ side as he _gallivanted across town._

 

Hearing no response from the other woman, Lydia made her way down one of the halls to the guest rooms and found Jessie holding a small yellow plush duck. She wasn’t crying, but it was easy to see that she was a stones’ throw away from it.

 

“It’s the waiting,” Jessie told her as she came into the room. “We know where she is, and I know we have to wait. But…”

 

“We’re going to get her back.” Lydia whispered, hoping it held enough conviction for the worried mother.

 

Jessie looked up with a sad smile and nodded her head. “I know. I do know that. I just can’t help thinking about how scared she must be. She’s all alone, and I know where she is. It’s going against _everything_ inside of me right now to not just go there and take her back.”

 

There was anger in her voice now. Lydia thought that was good. Anger could fuel someone’s determination, their resolve. And she knew that, even if nothing else was true, Jessie was resolved in getting her daughter back.

 

Jessie set the duck back down on the bed and wiped her hands over her face, seeming to collect herself. “So, tell me about the pack,” she asked Lydia.

 

Peter hadn’t explicitly stated he wanted the Williams for the pack, but Lydia knew that bringing them here, inviting them to stay with them was headed there just the same.

 

“Well, to start, Peter’s not an alpha,” she told her. “But he’s more or less our alpha where it matters.”

 

Jessie nodded back, “I picked up on that, yeah.”

 

“There’s another pack in town, and they do have an alpha…” She hedged. “But they don’t seem to have any understanding of being in a Pack. I’m new to it too, but I know when something feels wrong. And the way they act doesn’t feel like it does here.”

 

“Tell me about Peter?” Jessie asked. They knew she had been part of a pack in Utah from what Mark had told Peter, but he hadn’t elaborated on that apart from her brother being a wolf and her husband being trained as their emissary. If she were to start forming bonds here in this pack, she had a right to know the history. She had a right to make an informed decision.

 

Lydia liked her and she wanted her to like them. But she clicked so well with Stiles and Peter because she was pragmatic. Even when she was acting as queen bee of the high school, she approached things in a clinical way. There was a time for tact, but this wasn’t it.

 

“He used to be crazy,” she told Jessie. “He and Derek were two of only four survivors of a hunter attack on their family here in Beacon Hills. The youngest sister ran, thinking everyone else was dead. Derek’s older sister inherited the alpha power and took him to New York right after it happened. And Peter was stuck in a coma for six years here in the local hospital.”

 

“The older sister didn’t take him with her?” Jessie interrupted.

 

“No.” Lydia could see that Jessie thought the action was troubling, but she continued. “I believe he was aware for those six years. He doesn’t talk about it, and I’ve never tried to make him, but by the time he woke up he had his mind made up on getting revenge.”

 

They stayed in the Stilinski apartment for the talk. She knew that the others would probably still be gone for a while, but she wanted the privacy just in case. Jessie got them two mugs of coffee from the kitchen and they settled at the table to keep going.

 

“He killed a lot of people,” she bluntly told the woman, and took a deep breath in before continuing, choosing her words carefully. “His mind… it really is an amazing thing, the way his mind works. And trust me when I say, you want him on your side instead of against you. When he was starting to wake up, getting more control over his faculties, he set lures. Someone in town knew what they meant and contacted Laura, the sister. She came back from New York and Peter killed her.”

 

Jessie was listening intently, and Lydia could see she had opinions about that, but her face barely gave anything away.

 

“After that, he was an alpha. We were just barely starting to get involved in this world back then. Peter bit one of Stiles’ friends, really his only friend at the time, one night in the forest. That was Scott. After he became a werewolf, Stiles was in the game. He didn’t know about his spark back then, and I had no idea about being a banshee.” Lydia gave a small frown at her memories. “But back then, I wouldn’t say Stiles and I were even friends. Sure, we saw each other in the halls at school, and he was always nice… but I was too concerned about what other people thought of me that I never really gave him the time of day.” She said the last bit a little more quietly than the rest, and Jessie gave her some time to continue.

 

“I don’t know… I still don’t know if killing Laura and biting Scott were deliberate actions. Peter would probably say something about how _all of his actions are deliberate_ , but I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to fit with everything else he did. It was more like instinct. He needed to be stronger, that meant taking the alpha power from Laura. He needed a pack, that meant biting Scott.”

 

“And killing other people?” Jessie asked, grabbing her coffee to take a sip before it got too cold.

 

“Those were absolutely deliberate.” Lydia’s firm expression belied the fact that she agreed with the actions. “He killed the people responsible for burning his family alive. They’d gotten away with it for six years. Peter wasn’t going to give them a single extra day if he could help it. But he was smart. He planned, and plotted. He was cognizant enough to hack into a computer system and send a text to all of our phones, corralling us into whatever position he wanted us in.”

 

She could see that Jessie was a little worried about what that meant for this pack of theirs if Peter was the alpha. There was no amount of explanation or justification that erased the fact that Peter was dangerous. When Jessie asked if he had been feral, Lydia didn’t feel comfortable with the descriptor.

 

“I think his motivations may have come from a feral mind, but the way he executed his plans showed a higher than average level of cognitive reasoning. He ended up killing the hunter behind the attack. Well, one of them. And then we killed Peter.”

 

She was quiet for a long moment, and was certain Jessie thought she was being figurative about the killing, so she elaborated into how Derek had cut his throat and took the alpha power.

 

Lydia recounted the story of Derek’s four new betas, none of whom were still in Beacon Hills, either dead or moved away. How Scott was always resistant to the idea of Derek being his alpha, the kanima, and Gerard.

 

“And then Peter came back. It was when we were still dealing with Jackson being the kanima, and Gerard was hovering… I started having dreams.”

 

Their drinks had long passed the point of being an enjoyable temperature, but Lydia wet her throat before she started on the next part.

 

“Before he died, Peter bit me.” She told Jessie. “I didn’t turn, but my body didn’t reject the bite either. Maybe that was enough for him to know… but after he died, he latched onto me from the other side. He brought the banshee out kicking and screaming. I had no idea what was going on, but one night I went into a fugue state, and when it was over, Derek was laying on the floor of his burnt-out house and Peter was standing there, the picture of health.”

 

She explained how he stayed mostly in the background for a while. Long enough to see an end to the kanima and Gerard. Long enough to make it through the alpha pack and the darach. “He got closer to us when Cora came back. She was the younger sister that had run away during the original attack. She got caught by the alpha pack somewhere in there, and when Derek went to rescue his two betas from them, he found her.”

 

The whole mess with the darach wasn’t a fun topic to cover, and Lydia displayed enough protective instincts over Derek during her talk that Jessie filed it away for later. But she interrupted her once more when the sacrifice was brought up.

 

“Wait, the emissary killed three children?” She asked, alarmed.

 

“It wasn’t exactly killing, but it was a sacrifice, yes.” Lydia shared a look with her that conveyed they were on the same page with their distaste for the druid.

 

“It’s still killing,” she insisted. “An emissary should never…”

 

“I know,” Lydia cut her off with a grim smile. “We know that now. But we didn’t know anything back then. That was when Stiles started to really pull away from Scott.”

 

In a way that was completely unlike her, Lydia tried to be delicate about the Scott situation. And the Stiles situation. And the fact that Deaton’s actions were the beginning of a divide growing between the two friends.

 

“Or maybe it was when Allison started dating Scott…” she mused. “It was Stiles’ idea to go into the woods the night Scott was bitten. I think that, no matter what happens, Stiles will always blame himself for that. If he hadn’t insisted they go out there, Scott would be safe. He would still be human.

 

“Being a werewolf though, Scott got better at school sports, got a bit of popularity at school that didn’t really cross over to Stiles. And the new girl at the school, Allison, noticed Scott. They were together pretty much since she got to town. He became obsessed with her, to the point where Stiles was left on his own more.” She stared off into the wall across from the table, collecting her thoughts.

 

“There were a couple problems with that. One, the world was dangerous for Stiles now. And Scott ignoring his calls and skipping out on their plans left Stiles vulnerable. There were a couple close calls, and Gerard was able to kidnap Stiles at one point, he beat him along with two of Derek’s betas.” She lowered her gaze, feeling her own embarrassment for not helping more, and added softly “Scott never knew. And he never asked about the bruises.”

 

She told her about showing up at the Stilinski house that night, and how she should’ve seen it, but had been too focused on her own grief. “Stiles started interacting with Derek’s pack a bit more, but I don’t think he formed any real bonds with them. He was still tied to Scott. And Derek was still trying to convince Scott to join his pack back then too.”

 

Lydia gave a long sigh before pushing up from the table to warm her drink. “The other problem with Allison…” she started before redirecting. “First you have to know, we all loved Allison. She became my best friend, and even Stiles liked her. She had her moments, but she was a good person. She was also an Argent.”

 

Jessie sat back in shock. There wasn’t a werewolf pack out there who didn’t know the name Argent. And they weren’t held in high regard. They swore to stick by a code, but there was no truth in it as far as wolves were concerned.

 

Lydia agreed with the sentiment shown on Jessie’s face. “Derek had experience with the Argents and wasn’t willing to trust them again. But _no one_ could convince Scott to take a step back. And then there’s Deaton. Between Allison and Deaton, Scott was determined to be as uninvolved with the new Hale pack as possible. And even though Stiles was pushed to the side more often, his loyalty was still to Scott.

 

“When the alphas came, and brought the darach trailing behind them, that’s when things got really bad between Scott and Stiles.”

 

She covered the loss of Derek’s alpha power, given up willingly to save his sister, and Scott’s subsequent achievement of the ‘true alpha’ status.

 

“There’s no such thing as a true alpha,” Jessie interjected. She’d been good about keeping quiet so far, but she felt the need to speak up at that. “We didn’t know this was happening,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, Mark felt something a while ago, big magic being worked. But we had no way to find out what it was.”

 

“When did he feel that?” Lydia asked.

 

They traced back the months to the night Scott was in the vault. And while they couldn’t be sure the dates matched up exactly, Lydia didn’t believe in coincidences.

 

“Deaton became the most important person to Scott after that. Well, after Allison,” she corrected. “But Deaton was his chosen advisor. And Stiles was in his own head anyway. The nogitsune had been released. We don’t know who or why, but someone let it out.”

 

The door to the apartment opened after that, and Mark, Stiles, and Peter joined them inside. Lydia was happy to have already covered the ‘touchy’ areas where Peter had been concerned, and was more than welcoming of them finishing up the story. Stiles settled into the chair next to her and gave his account of the possession, the loss of Allison, and then the months and months where Stiles and Lydia were left to their own devices.

 

“I saw them struggling, and offered my library for their research,” Peter spoke up. “It was clear to me from everything that had been going on, that Stiles had a spark. I wanted to help him discover that side of himself.”

 

“Yeah, you never told us why you thought that,” Stiles turned to him, remembering the line of questioning that the wolf had never clarified.

 

Lydia ducked her head and let out a mean laugh. “Stiles, in all the reading we did about banshees and werewolves, and sparks… what was the one thing we never found?”

 

Stiles shook his head in confusion.

 

“True alphas,” she stated, her tone a mixture of anger and disgust. Peter smiled over at her like she was the cleverest girl in the world.

 

He would give them answers when they were stuck, if he absolutely had to. But he’d taken the approach that it was better for everyone if they uncovered the truth themselves. He knew what he was like. And he knew that _they knew_ he sometimes couldn’t help himself from his manipulative tendencies. But he wanted them to learn the truth honestly. And Lydia, genius that she was, had put all the right pieces together.

 

“I’ll be honest,” he told the group. “When Derek gave up his alpha spark to save Cora,” he turned to Lydia, “Did you cover that?” She nodded and he kept going. “I’ll be honest, I had no idea what would happen to it. When precious little Scott happened to gain an alpha spark of his very own… I knew.”

 

He looked at Stiles across the table and waited until the boy raised his eyes to meet him. “There’s no such thing as a true alpha. It was a lie to cover up the fact that Deaton took the Hale alpha spark and put it inside his pet.”

 

Stiles was shell-shocked and looked back at Peter with a blank stare. His eyes starting to gloss over as he got lost in memories, trying to reconcile everything he knew, everything he’d gone through with this new truth.

 

“I can’t prove it, but I’d wager the druid’s sister helped him do it,” Peter added. “And I would bet anything, they took some energy out of you to make that happen. Having the energy from a spark to work with would be almost _required_ to pull something like that off.”

 

“Which made you vulnerable for the nogitsune,” Lydia concluded.

 

Stiles sat where he was for a few moments longer. Enough for his expression to go from blank to anger, to betrayed. He pushed up from the table and stalked to the door.

 

Peter got up to follow, but Lydia rose and held out her hand. “No, let me.”

 

He nodded and took his seat, listening for their movements and was pleased when he heard the elevator head upstairs rather than down. It wasn’t how he wanted to share the news, but it was better they were all on the same page now. Stiles would likely need another trip to the nemeton after this, and Peter let out a tired chuckle when Mark chimed in with that exact thought.

 

Jessie had a lot to think about. But really, it wasn’t a choice at all. If she’d gone through the same thing Peter had, she didn’t imagine her actions would be any better. There was something pure about revenge. And she felt the loss of her brother and pack every day. If she’d had the opportunity, she might have gone down the same road.

 

Either way, she knew they were on the better side of things here. Lydia had told her the ugly side of it all. And even with that, she would rather throw her lot in with the Hale pack, then trust the one created by a druid’s thievery. With all that man had done, she wondered how there hadn’t been two darachs in Beacon Hills instead of just the one.


	5. Chapter 5

“Yeah,” Derek spoke into the phone, catching it before what was likely the last ring. He’d just finished with a scheduled pick-up at the Stilinski house and didn’t have much time before the next.

 

“Derek, it’s Peter. How much longer do you think you’ll be today?” He checked his home screen and saw the day was still in the morning hours. Peter knew he had the move scheduled for most of the day.

 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Do you need me to come back?”

 

“No, no.” Peter reassured him. “Things just got a little emotional over here, and I think Stiles needs my help to work out his pent-up frustration soon.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes at his uncle’s tone sounding more like a cat-who-got-the-canary than a concerned individual. “God, at least _try_ not to sound so suggestive in front of the sheriff.”

 

He heard a snort back and then “Yes, well. Fun as that might be, no. I’m taking him out to the nemeton and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to cook dinner tonight.”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Derek immediately answered. “Is he alright?”

 

Derek had always looked at Stiles with an easy sort of acceptance. Sometimes the boy was too smart for his own good, and sometimes he put himself in the way of danger without a care for his own well-being. But from the beginning, Derek had looked at this kid who was always just _there_ , and felt an innate sense of rightness about it.

 

After Scott became the alpha, Derek had realized he’d been thinking of Stiles as pack for a long time, probably even before he’d sheltered him in his father’s house. It was funny that the absence of pack bonds was the tipping point for Derek to realize the truth.

 

When he thought about Scott, he’d known immediately that Scott would never be family in his mind. After the young wolf had acquired the alpha power, something inside of Derek put up a wall between them. There was no instinct to submit, or follow, but there was a lot of wariness. And when he’d thought of Stiles next to the other boy, his gut-feeling told him to save the kid.

 

It had been weird at the time, but also just _right._ Stiles belonged with Derek, with the Hales. And no matter how ridiculous he tried to convince himself the idea was, Derek had always felt a thrum of anxiety, of _danger_ , when he left Stiles alone with Scott. Well before he’d even admitted it to himself, he knew what he was feeling was a pack bond with the spark.

 

Peter assured him with a more serious tone than before that everyone was fine, and it was nothing major to worry about, but also that he’d rather not leave the situation for long.

 

“Yeah,” Derek repeated. “I’ve got a few more hours here, but I can be back in time to cook if we’re sticking to the normal schedule.”

 

He had Noah and Jordan come by with a small moving truck around lunch time to haul away the ‘donate’ and ‘trash’ loads. He helped them get it on the truck, of course, but he left them to take it away so he could finish the pick-ups of the last bit.

 

Noah was leaving the appliances in the kitchen, but the washer and dryer had gone. And the bedrooms, living room, dining room and basement had all usable furniture sold by the end of the day. By the time it was all done, Derek had to admit, Lydia’s system was handy. There’d been several people asking about the other pieces when they came to pick up what they had already agreed on. It was easy to take a look at the inventory roster to see if it was already spoken for. If it wasn’t, he gladly sold it to them. But there was more than one request he had to turn down.

 

The sun was still up when he locked up the house, but it was already getting low in the sky. He really had no idea what kind of food situation he’d be walking into back in the apartment, so a quick stop to the grocery store was in the cards.

 

Well, it would have been quick, but after picking out his meat selection and moving to the produce, he noticed two teenagers from the McCall pack walking through the sliding doors by the registers. They didn’t notice him, just walked past the entrance toward the chip aisle. He took his time looking at the vegetables, deciding that yes, he should probably get enough for a decent salad to go with the meal.

 

Part of it though, was waiting until the two boys came back to the front to check out. It was a little disappointing that they didn’t seem to be aware enough to sense him in the store, and he shook his head slightly at their lack of vigilance. But at the same time, it was easier if they continued to believe he’d left town.

 

Thankfully, he made it back home before the ambient light from the sunset had completely disappeared and found the others weren’t back from the preserve yet. He knew Stiles was going to need to work out his emotions and didn’t expect that to be a quick thing. But the longer they were gone meant the more prepared the two sparks were likely to be in the upcoming confrontation.

 

It was only days away now, and they needed every bit of luck on their side as possible. A witch was one thing. But a coven, especially one brazen enough to steal a spark child right out from under her parents was something entirely different. Derek would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned for their odds.

 

Lydia and Jessie had been camped out in the study all afternoon, and Noah and Jordan were the first of the rest to make it back. After getting their showers in, they settled down in the kitchen to keep Derek company while he put the meal together. It was nothing fancy, just some meatball sliders with sautéed olives and green peppers. Along with oven roasted potato wedges.

 

They weren’t curly fries, but he hoped Stiles would be happy with the seasoning he’d thrown on top. And the salad.

 

He’d already shot a text to Peter earlier to let him know about the menu, and not to stop by the fast food joints the boy normally craved. Noah chuckled a little when Derek showed him the ‘Bless you. I completely forgive you for killing me that one time’ text he’d gotten in return.

 

The thing was, Peter was telling the truth. And it wasn’t because Derek had seasoned the oven fries.

 

If his uncle was holding a grudge, he was ruthless in his snark; waiting for the perfect opportunity to pull it out when it had the maximum chance of inflicting emotional pain. When he joked like he did in that text, he was just being the inappropriately dark-humored uncle Peter he’d grown up with.

 

Stiles immediately dove into his chair at the table when they got back. Lydia had barely sat down for her own food when she was jostled by an exuberant but tired Stiles insisting on having, “all the fries. In my belly, right now. I’m not joking, pass ‘em over,” while making grabby hands at the plate.

 

Derek snorted at the antics and loaded up two sliders and fries onto a plate for him. “There’s salad, too,” he explained in case Stiles had missed the bowl on the table.

 

“Nah,” Stiles said around a mouthful, words barely coherent, “a’ foos fuh daa”

 

“I swear to god, kid” Noah was a mix between disbelief and resigned. “Swallow, then talk. And the salads not just for me.” He’d already had seventeen years to make words out of his son’s garbled English, and he’d understood him just fine. “Whatever happened to ‘ _I eat healthy, you eat healthy_ ,’ or was that not the deal?”

 

Stiles stopped chewing, looking over at his dad like a deer in headlights. Only the lightest narrowing of his eyes gave him away.

 

Derek let out a quick, but loud laugh. “It’s like I can see you trying to come up with a way out.” He shook his head and loaded a small bit of salad in a bowl before putting it in front of the boy. “There isn’t one. Eat your salad.”

 

Stiles’ expression immediately turned into a steely-eyed glare, alternating between Derek and his dad. They both returned smug grins that claimed obvious victory for that round, and the rest of the table let out amused chuckles of their own.

 

“So,” Peter broke the stare off. “I’ve got the head contractor coming on Monday.” After that, everyone’s attention switched over to the wolf. “I’ve delayed the renovations by a week, but I told Leon to come and do a walk around the sites.”

 

He described the working relationship he had with the other man, and how he’d been the contractor put on the renovation at the Stilinski apartment. It was typical of Peter to trust very few people inside of his personal boundaries. And being inside the pack den was definitely considered _inside_. So, sticking to a known person to manage the construction was somewhat expected.

 

But it was also true that Peter didn’t suffer fools, or shoddy craftsmanship. If he had invited Leon back, then the man’s work was likely solid. When it came to Peter, a return invite was a glowing endorsement.

 

“We’ll get him started on the actual work after this coming week.” Peter told the table. “Once the coven is dealt with, we’ll have a little breathing room to relax and get everything settled.”

 

Jessie was reminded of her thoughts earlier in the day about choosing the right side. Of course, none of them could predict the future. But Peter was confident in his belief that they would come out on top of the situation with the coven. He was planning and plotting, sure. And Lydia had been right before; she absolutely wanted Peter on her side rather than against her. As far as she could tell from every conversation she’d been in with the wolf, all that planning and plotting was dedicated to the safety of this pack.

 

And while the bonds were still new and fragile, she still felt them starting to form. Peter’s end goal seemed to be more than just protection for her family. It felt like it used to back in Utah. It felt like pack to her. A quick glance at her husband showed a content smile that indicated to her a similar thought process was happening inside Mark.

 

Her husband had known about his spark from the time he was a child. He’d been raised with it, unlike Stiles. Watching him with the young man reminded her that sparks instinctively seek out another of their kind to pass along the knowledge, the skills. She’d already seen small moments between Mark and Maisy where he would teach her something or other about nature and energy, but their daughter was still so young.

 

Stiles was a good student for him. He had a thirst for knowledge and a mind old enough and quick enough to pick up the lessons he learned at an amazing pace. When Mark told her in detail about the wards at the nemeton, she’d been impressed. And that was an understatement.

 

This new Hale pack would be powerful. With the players they had at the table, it was very unlikely to her that it would be anything less. And Peter was paranoid enough that he would keep them ahead of any future attacks.

 

She was comforted by what she’d seen so far, that she didn’t imagine Peter would turn out to be the type of alpha who ruled with an iron fist. He wanted them safe, yes. But he hadn’t been overbearingly controlling. Their wants and desires were very much incorporated in his plans. She was confident that she and Mark would have their own voice in pack decisions to the point where her mind was firm in becoming more integrated in pack life.

 

“Stiles and I have school next week,” Lydia reminded them, not that they had forgotten. “If we expect to be out on Thursday, we should probably get in some extra work for the next few nights.”

 

Noah looked over at his son and asked, “Were you two still putting up wards tonight?” He shot a quick look over to Mark, the back to Stiles. “I don’t want you staying up too late with everything going on.”

 

“We did that earlier,” Mark told him. Stiles added in his own smile of proud accomplishment.

 

Noah was shocked, so was Jordan, but the others thought it made sense. Derek hummed and mused to the room that he thought he’d felt something earlier.

 

“Yeah, Peter took us up to the roof when we got back,” Stiles told Noah. “Dad, he’s got a greenhouse up there and everything. We’re totally growing our own vegetables from now on.”

 

“Oh, yay,” Noah deadpanned back, then refocused. “But you’re okay? Everything worked out?”

 

“Totally,” Stiles said around another bite, waving his arm out at the rest of the penthouse. “Whole place is good now. The tree grew some more too.”

 

“We’ll head back to the nemeton tomorrow, and then again on Tuesday,” Peter explained to Noah. “Stiles and Mark can replenish their reserves and we can get the area ready.” He elaborated further on the scent he picked up at the nemeton earlier that day.

 

The coven had been there. He still couldn’t make out individual scents, but the horrible smell from before had been present. The coven had located the nemeton. Peter and Mark were convinced that it would be the best place inside of a hundred miles for a ritual. They should still monitor the comings and goings of the coven, but there were good odds on the clearing being the location of choice Wednesday night.

 

“If we’re good on the wards now, then I think I want to get the apartment below us sorted,” Derek spoke up. He got a caring smile from Peter and knew his uncle understood and accepted his need for space better than anyone. “It might be better to have a wolf on that floor with Mark and Jessie anyway. Just in case.”

 

Peter let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement and nodded his agreement. He wanted them all close, especially with the danger coming up. But they already had control over who could access the apartments, and the wards were up. It was the smart move.

 

Plus, Derek was used to being more solitary. Not for the first time, Peter wondered just how close his nephew had been with Laura in New York. Or rather, how distant.

 

Wolves were pack animals. For a wolf to seek out solitude as much as Derek did, it spoke to Peter of a learned trait. He’d always been a shy boy, quiet compared to his siblings, but he’d always been attached to the family as well.

 

Which meant Peter wasn’t surprised in the least when Derek mentioned to Jordan that there was another bed in the apartment, if the man wanted to join him.

 

Jordan wasn’t hesitant in the least about agreeing. Both of the wolves had noticed his bodyguard tendencies with Jessie and Noah. He was protective of the vulnerable pack members. And while he wasn’t a werewolf, Peter was pleased to have that kind of dedication shown from the new pack member.

 

“Oh good.” Stiles chimed in, then added a little more ruefully than anyone was expecting, “I’ll get to sleep in _my own_ bed tonight. I might actually get some sleep.”

 

Lydia side-eyed him so hard. “Excuse me?”

 

Stiles wasn’t chastised in the least. “Look, Lydia. You know I love you, you’re the best. Really.” She wasn’t impressed. “But you steal the covers. It’s that simple. I spent the night freezing because every time I tried to get warm, you would _steal more.”_

 

She huffed and cut a potato wedge in half with her fork and knife rather than using her hands. Her body language reading for the world to see that she was above these accusations against her character.

 

But then she turned back into the seventeen-year-old that she was and shot a menacing look to her side. “Well if you didn’t try to stick those ice sickles you call toes on my leg, I wouldn’t have to barricade myself in with the blankets.”

 

Stiles reared back in shock, clearly affronted by her excuse. “Barri… They were _freezing_ because you _stole the blankets_! I could’ve had frostbite!”

 

“Children,” Noah chided. “Everyone survived,” he told them, then raised his voice a little to talk over Stiles when he scoffed and claimed to have ‘barely survived’. “Nobody got frost bite, and everyone gets to sleep in their own bed tonight.”

 

Stiles grumbled under his breath about understanding why everyone called Lydia the ‘ice queen’. She responded by glaring back.

 

“Do I need to separate you two?” Noah asked, his tone conveying the amusement from the rest of the table.

 

Stiles grumbled a little but made a point of silencing himself. He could be the bigger person.

 

His mistake was made when he looked over at Lydia and nearly lost his shit at her smarmy victory smirk. Peter grabbed his wrist and gave him an indulgent smile, but also a look that sent a wave of calm through him.

 

It was enough for him to finish the meal in peace and even join in on the discussion of getting Derek’s place ready for full time accommodations.

  

* * *

 

 

Despite the time between Sunday and the full moon, the next day seemed to have the ‘eve before battle’ feel to it.

 

They all relaxed as much as possible, but there was a steady thrum of anticipation felt throughout the pack. Noah and Jordan had another morning shift, having switched over from nights after their downtime. Although having one day of downtime in-between switching schedules didn’t seem to be a lot to Stiles.

 

He’d spent the next morning educating the breakfast table on circadian rhythms, and the kind of stress it can put on the body when it’s disrupted with any regular frequency. Noah indulged his son, knowing it came from a place of caring. And he had to admit the science behind it was well founded. He’d been working as a deputy, then as the sheriff long enough to have experienced the lack of personal health benefits that came with the job.

 

Still, it was a calling he’d felt even as a young man. And he knew that his son understood that. The lectures and helicoptering of his meals was just Stiles’ way of showing he cared.

 

Stiles and Mark went out to the nemeton with Peter around the same time the two law enforcement officers left. Peter’s plan was to take him out early, get his energy up and going throughout the day, and hopefully it would be enough to let him get a good night’s rest before school the next morning.

 

Peter had asked Jessie over breakfast if there were any more belongings she wanted to move over to the apartment. She was momentarily hesitant, but Noah had assured her that the place was too big for one man, and that he’d be more than happy to have them there on a more permanent basis.

 

“If things change,” Peter added, “There’s always the third floor down.” He’d had it emptied way back when, but it was fully functional as an apartment. And although he liked having the open floor between his pack and the rest of the building’s inhabitants, it was theirs if they wanted it.

 

Jessie and Mark both agreed that staying in the current apartment was good for now, and they discussed the items from the home that they wanted with them. The books had already been moved into the main study in the penthouse, but there were trunks of family relics that it would be nice to have as well. On top of the clothing and personal items for three people.

 

“I can help with that,” Derek offered. “I just need to meet the property manager at the house today, then I’m free.”

 

Lydia and Derek both decided they would go to the Williams’ with Jessie after turning over the keys to the former Stilinski house. “Do we need a truck?” Lydia asked her before they set out.

 

It wasn’t that there were a lot of trunks, it’s just that they were pretty big. “Probably,” Jessie confirmed. “I want to bring over our clothes with everything today, and I’m not sure they would all fit in a car. And the trunks really wouldn’t. So, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

 

In the back of her mind, she recognized the others were trying to keep her distracted. But she was more than happy to go along with it. Maisy would always come first for her, but Mark was keeping an eye on their daughter’s spark with the gift he’d received from the nemeton. She was as safe as she was going to get right now, so keeping her mind occupied with tasks was close enough to relief for her.

 

They were back early enough in the day for Lydia and Stiles to devote some serious time to their studies. Derek made himself available to help Mark and Jessie unpack, but the two decided they could manage it alone.

 

Which left the young wolf and his uncle free to ensure Derek’s apartment was in order. They spent the afternoon, and into the evening, going over the furniture choices Peter wanted to see in the place. Derek disagreed with a lot of it.

 

“Derek, honestly.” Peter finally exclaimed, waiving his tablet around in the air. “With the exposed brick and wood flooring, a leather sofa would be perfect for the space.”

 

He was quiet for a minute, then looking out over the apartment, “But there is no wood flooring.”

 

“Well, obviously we’d need to correct that as soon a possible.” Peter remarked off-handedly, as though it was a foregone conclusion that Derek would make that change.

 

“But I like the flooring it has now,” he replied.

 

Peter had to admit that the stained cement was a nice coffee color, and it had an understated gloss to it that would compliment the soft lighting his nephew wanted. “I suppose…” he relented. “But that couch?”

 

“I like that couch,” Derek asserted. It was one of the first things besides a bed that he’d purchased for himself when he’d stopped squatting in the train station and given into the idea that he was staying in Beacon Hills for the foreseeable future.

 

“But with the color scheme?” Peter asked. He gave Derek a look like he must be talking to a small child. “This, what is this? Blue, gray… is it purple? This isn’t going to fit the other pieces.”

 

“Peter, those are your pieces.” Derek was all for his uncle helping him set the place up. But he’d reached his limit. “The penthouse looks great. I love it. And you’re leaps and bounds above everyone else when it comes to interior design. But I like cool colors, not warm.”

 

Never let it be said that Peter couldn’t compromise. Actually, no. He was terrible at it, and had zero problems admitting it. That being said, he did respect the possibility that Derek’s preferences were not his own.

 

The penthouse and the Stilinski apartment had been decorated in warm colors to go with the wood flooring and antiqued wooden furniture. Deep burgundy and rust colored reds, soft golden yellows, and muted burnt oranges littered the two spaces. All very warm and inviting, and softly implying ‘home’ to Peter.

 

But Derek preferred a cooler end of the spectrum. Alright, he could work with that. The pieces he wanted for his nephew could be changed out to match that, but Derek put his foot down on the lack of metal pieces. He liked them better than wood apparently. With a deep sigh, Peter repeated that “I can work with that,” and proceeded to delete several items from his selection.

 

“You’re getting curtains this time, though.” Peter declared, just as petulant and dramatic as he’d ever heard from Stiles or Lydia. “How you survived in that loft without curtains is simply beyond my understanding. Clearly, the design aspect of this can’t be left up to you.”

 

Derek gave the floor a small grin and silent laugh, but capitulated to Peter’s strategy. The windows in the apartment were different from the ones in the loft anyway. Instead of a giant wall of glass, there were recessed, arched frames ensconced in the brickwork. Each window was still pretty large in and of itself, but Derek could see how curtains would make sense in the overall design.

 

Getting Peter to let go of the wine-colored velvet he’d picked was another story. But seeing that pinched expression on his uncle’s face each time Derek flat-out refused one of his suggestions was enough to lift his spirits for the rest of the night.

 

“Alright, kiddos,” Noah said as he came back to the dining table well after diner was finished. “It’s going on eleven and you’ve both got school in the morning.”

 

Lydia and Stiles had skipped out on the movie the others had settled down with for the evening. Choosing instead to knock out some more studying to try and stay ahead of their expected absences.

 

Mark and Jessie had retired early, and no one argued against the two spending some time to themselves. But the rest of them had dimmed the lights in the living room and had a small respite from the ‘go-go-go’ activities of the last few days.

 

“Are you calling the school in the morning?” Lydia asked, starting to pack up their work.

 

“First thing,” he confirmed. “I was thinking about telling them you two have a college tour, so you’ll be out Thursday and Friday. Sound good?”

 

“Perfect,” Stiles nodded, not able to stop himself from yawning now that his brain realized they were stopping for the night. “They know we’re graduating early, so it makes sense that we’d be doing the tours and stuff early too.”

 

“My thoughts exactly,” Noah agreed. He gave both of them a quick hug good night, not even questioning when Lydia stopped for one of her own. And smiled when Peter came in the room to do the same.

 

Derek and Jordan were already gone to the lower apartment, so he helped the older wolf finish cleaning up and shutting off the lights. He’d liked Peter’s plan for an early evening, but with everyone on edge still, it hadn’t happened.

 

Hopefully, they’d be able to stick to that plan tomorrow.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next three days saw the pack in tense mood overall. They made time for themselves where they could, but there was always an underlying vibration of anxiety in the background. At one point, Stiles made a comment about all of them having caught his ADD.

 

He knew now that the ADD symptoms had come from his underutilized spark, but it was an easy joke to make. And he was hoping it would interject some humor into the atmosphere. It did, for a few minutes at least.

 

But feeling anxious was no reason to veer from their plans. So bright and early Monday morning, Peter saw the rest of the pack off and welcomed Leon to the penthouse.

 

Leon was a contractor Peter was familiar with, having hired the man to convert the Stilinski apartment, as well as the penthouse to suit his needs when he’d first moved in. He’d vetted the man thoroughly, and concluded he was both well-respected in his field and absolutely human with no discernable ties to the supernatural or the hunters.

 

Leon wasn’t old by any stretch, but he wasn’t a kid either. And he’d been at his craft long enough to build a solid reputation for amazing work. He was also very accepting of the fact that any work done in the penthouse and apartments below would be overseen by Peter personally.

 

He appreciated Peter staying out of the work directly, but he accepted that the man was going to be present for every aspect of the job. But he had one requirement. After laying down the rules, and listening to Peter’s mild attestations that he would be okay without it, Leon had managed to get Peter to agree to wear a hardhat.

 

Peter hadn’t been happy, but he agreed with minimal grumbling.

 

“Leon, so good to see you,” Peter greeted the man on the ground floor of the building with a handshake.

 

“You too, boss,” Leon grinned warmly back and gave the hand a firm grasp.

 

Leon had worked for millionaires a time or two, but Peter was by far the most pleasant. He’d made it a point to cater each day of the job for the workers, and Leon was impressed by the ever-ready coffee urn and cold water bottles available on the kitchen island. Peter had one rule about the food and beverages: Trash was to be disposed of in the bins provided and taken away at the end of each day. No one had complained.

 

Peter spent the ride up to the penthouse asking how Leon’s business had been lately, what jobs he’d been working on. Leon liked Peter, but there was always the feeling in their conversations that the man was putting him through a light interrogation. He wrote it off as being part of Peter’s eccentricities, _rich people,_ he supposed. But he’d rather have this kind of rich guy to work for than an asshole with unreasonable requests.

 

They spent the better part of the morning going through the penthouse and three apartments on the lower floor. Peter had a lot of things he wanted done. The first order of business was to get a stairwell from the interior of each apartment below into the interior of the top floor apartment.

 

“You want to expand the penthouse?” He’d asked. “Are we sealing off the hallway downstairs?”

 

Peter laughed as Leon measured out the distance away from the wall where a hole would need to be added for the stairs. “Not exactly.” He settled against the kitchen counter and told the man, “The three apartments will stay separate on that level, but they all need access from the inside to this one.”

 

Leon hummed in thought. “Even so, the committee will still look at it as one penthouse if you connect them.”

 

That was the other reason Peter liked Leon so much. The man took his job seriously, and knew the zoning and architectural regulations backwards and forwards. Peter could see how someone else might not like being told something wasn’t possible or that it could lead to a violation fine, but he appreciated the man’s candor.

 

He also appreciated that Leon would take care of filing any permits they needed to cover the changes to the structure.

 

“That’s acceptable,” Peter assured him.

 

“But the higher value of the penthouse is going to come straight back to a lower value of the building since you’re removing an entire floor of residences.” Leon reminded him. He didn’t say it to dissuade Peter, just to let him know.

 

“Let me make us a bite, and then we’ll head back downstairs to look at the new additions.” He’d already started pulling sandwich fixing out on the counter before he asked, “Roast beef okay?”

 

Leon had just finished marking down the measurements in his notebook and thanked Peter for whatever he had before asking, “Hey are you good with me marking the floor now?” He held up a roll of blue painter’s tape for the other man to see.

 

“That’s fine, I want get started on this next week,” Peter told him, waiting for a nod of agreement from Leon. “I think I can live with a week of tape on the floor.”

 

They did take a seat at the table to eat, but quickly got back up with their plates to look at the rooms. Leon mentioned that the staircase from the big apartment below was fine to go into the area between the kitchen and dining room, but one of the others might disrupt one of the bedrooms.

 

It was the room Noah had moved into. Peter didn’t think it would be a problem since Noah planned on moving back down to the lower apartment by the time the work started on that particular room.

 

“You could take out the wall, make it an open area,” the man suggested. “A sitting room, maybe?”

 

Peter made a thoughtful sound and looked around the room, imagining how it would look after the renovations. The floors throughout had already been converted to hardwood, all traces replaced with a subtle bamboo that he’d fallen in love with when Leon had brought by samples during one of his first visits.

 

“The walls will need the same paint as the rest of the open interior,” Peter mused. Leon had left his notebook back in the dining room with the floor plans, but Peter was sure he’d make note of the changes when they got back.

 

He held off on the floor markings until he could look over the plans again, but they made their way back out to put the dishes back in the kitchen.

 

“Anything else on this level?” he asked.

 

“Yes, actually,” Peter smiled as though the thought just came back to him. He guided Leon across the penthouse to the patio doors.

 

The outdoor space was largely unused, but Peter had some high-end deck furniture in the area directly in front of the doors. “I was thinking of a pool.”

 

Leon laughed happily, but shook his head. “I can see it, but I’m gonna need to contract out for that.” They walked out into the open air while he let Peter know that while his company didn’t do pools, he could oversee the installation of it.

 

The patio was two large rectangles forming an ‘L’ shape, taking up at least three quarters of the space directly over the unoccupied apartment below. Peter wanted to use the far side of the ‘L’ to put in a pool, hot tub, and a sauna room.

 

“Well that’s bringing the value back up,” Leon commented as they walked the space.

 

Increased value wasn’t the highest priority for Peter’s plans. Having a space that the pack would use on the other hand, was extremely high.

 

However, the sauna room was for Lydia. She had made an off-hand comment a while back about how the thing she remembered most fondly about spending time with her mother was when she used to take Lydia out to the spa for mother-daughter time.

 

The relaxation she’d mentioned experiencing in the sauna was something Peter didn’t think he’d ever appreciate himself. He didn’t find the idea of being surrounded by extreme heat to be a very appealing concept, but he wanted her to have something that made her happy.

 

Especially when he overheard her follow up her reminiscing by telling Stiles it had been nearly a year and a half since the last time she’d spent time like that with her mother.

 

“I’m thinking about a play area for a child in that other corner,” Peter brought up after they’d looked over the ‘wet’ area for spacing issues.

 

Leon was a family man himself and smiled back at Peter. In all the time he’d known him, he didn’t see Peter with any relatives or children around. In fact, during the first renovations, Peter’s plans were all focused on his own tastes. There had been no mention of the man having anyone else around at all.

 

He was happy to see signs of more than one person in their tour earlier, and was thrilled at seeing Peter make plans to account for a child’s happiness.

 

“I still want this seating area here,” Peter mentioned, “But there’s this whole space on this side for a play area.”

 

“Hmmm.” Leon sent back, looking over the empty area. “At least half of this should get some shade and cover, don’t want sunburn. And the railings should probably be addressed.”

 

Peter nodded back, agreeing. “Show me options. I’m not against a pergola idea over the whole thing, maybe some retractable shades on the sides.”

 

“You want wood?” Leon asked. He was already mapping out a sketch of the idea in his notepad.

 

“Of course,” He grinned back. “Options on the railings too. But I’m thinking more shaded glass, or plexiglass if it’s safer.” Hearing his phone ring, he asked if Leon would be okay out there while he went to catch it.

 

The man waived him away, already lost in his sketch.

 

“Noah, how’s the stalking going?” Peter answered the call. He heard the man snort on the other end, but listened as the sheriff told him that there were some witches leaving the house, and did Peter want him and Jordan to tail them.

 

He told them to be cautious, only tail to get an idea of the direction they were heading but don’t be too obvious.

 

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Peter,” Noah shot back good-naturedly. “We’ll tail for a minute, then pull over a random car to be safe.”

 

He ended the call and rejoined Leon on the patio. The man had a good sketch of the space going by the time he took a seat on the outdoor couch, but Peter added comments as he worked. “Yes, but let’s use the same railings to block off the pool area. And more trailing vines on this section of the overhead.”

 

Leon sketched in the additions and changes, erasing some of the space over the seating area and scaling it back to allow for an outdoor cooking/wet bar to be added. He did have a moment of shocked amusement when Peter told him he wanted a similar pergola setup added to the roof, along with an expansion to the greenhouse.

 

Apparently, Leon hadn’t been aware of the roof.

 

By the time they made it back down to the lower apartments, Derek was already back in his. Peter introduced him to Leon and they talked over some of the changes to the space he wanted his nephew to consider. Derek agreed to some, but he liked the brick for the walls throughout, and didn’t want to have drywall put in.

 

“How about just in the bathrooms, then,” Peter insisted. “It’ll be better to tile those walls for the moisture than leaving exposed brickwork.”

 

He won that round. And he didn’t even remind Derek that the interior walls were already drywall anyway.

 

Peter consoled himself about the rest when he remembered that the unused apartment was still open to his influence. And after Leon measured and marked a space for the stairwell, he quickly shuffled the man out of Derek’s space.

 

“Ignore him, would you please,” he told his contractor when Derek brought up the fact that they might want to get Jordan’s take on those designs before they got too far into it.

 

Jordan hadn’t asked to move into his own apartment, but Peter had already discussed the idea with Derek. They thought it might be good for the other man.

 

Despite Peter’s implying that the apartment was going to be modified to fit his own tastes, he left the designing largely alone when he and Leon toured it. The kitchen would need new appliances and updating, but the rest of it would wait until Peter brought the idea up to the young deputy.

 

He was confident that the boy could be swayed to agree with Peter’s suggestions regardless.

 

There was the third floor down to consider, but Peter decided to leave that for another day. He’d do some more talking with Mark and Jessie first before he went forward with the possibility of adding to the pack’s living space. They had already agreed that living in the Stilinski apartment would suit them well for now, and Noah himself seemed to like the idea.

 

It was going on two thirty by the time they were done with the walk-through. Leon’s notebook was filled with scribbles and sketches, and he told Peter he’d have some drafts and material selections in his inbox by the end of the week. The renovations were likely going to take several months before they were finished, and he would need to do some research on companies for the pool area, but he had a guy in mind already.

 

Peter was satisfied with the plans and the scheduling, and reminded Leon not to worry about pricing. He was after quality, not sticking to a budget.

 

After seeing the man out, he went back to the penthouse to prepare for Lydia and Stiles to be home soon. They had spent a good chunk of the previous night immersed in studies, and Peter took a quick look at the assignment schedule on the fridge to see what they had coming up.

 

All things considered, it was a light schedule for schoolwork this week. They had a research paper due on Friday that he knew they would want out of the way, so he planned a quick snack of pita and hummus for the two to nibble on. Of course, he was making his own hummus so he pulled out the ingredients and got started.

 

* * *

  

For their part, Stiles and Lydia had done what they could to avoid the pack during school. They kept their heads down and stuck to their routine of going to the library for their lunch period as well as the last block of the day.

 

Lydia had deviated from their isolation only once that day. She’d seen Malia alone at her locker at the end of their lunch break and told Stiles to wait for her by their next class. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her by herself, but he took a look down the hall at Malia and nodded his acceptance.

 

“Hi, Malia,” Lydia greeted the girl as she walked up.

 

Malia distractedly said hi back, but continued to shuffle through the contents of the locker, checking her backpack when she didn’t find what she was looking for.

 

“Do you have a minute?” Lydia asked.

 

Malia gave up her search with a huff. “Yeah, that’s fine. I can’t find my history book.” She grumbled. “Must’ve left it at home. What’s up? Did you need something?” She looked over at Lydia, focusing her attention on the girl for the first time that day.

 

Lydia didn’t have a problem with Malia like she did with Scott. The girl’s time as a coyote gave her a little leeway in the way she saw her. It wasn’t Malia’s fault that she lacked the necessary tact to keep from saying whatever was on her mind, socially acceptable or not. Plus, she was Peter’s daughter. And Lydia was about ninety percent sure the wolf’s particular sociopathy was hereditary.

 

“I just wanted to talk to you about Peter,” Lydia said.

 

“What about him?” Malia dismissed. “Scott said he left town anyway. So I guess there’s nothing to really talk about, right?”

 

For almost anyone else, Lydia wouldn’t think twice about the girl’s nonchalant answer. But she caught a flicker of what she was looking for in the other girl’s expression.

 

Even if the girl tried to deny it, there was a moment of sadness at the thought of Peter. Sure, she didn’t know the man, had never really spent any time with him… But her mind still knew he was her father. And there was a part of her that was hurt by the idea that he’d left her here, knowing who she was, without making any effort to build some kind of relationship.

 

“He doesn’t have your number,” Lydia started. “But if you wanted, I could give it to him for you. I know he’d be really happy if you two could talk.”

 

“You talk to Peter?” Malia asked, slightly surprised at the information.

 

“Yeah,” Lydia answered quietly around an encouraging smile. “He’s a good listener. And I’m sure he’d make time for it if it was something you wanted.”

 

Malia looked confused for a moment then asked a little defensively, “What would we even talk about?” It was more rhetorical than anything, but Lydia answered anyway.

 

“Whatever you wanted to talk about. Really.” She didn’t reach out to offer the girl physical comfort, but she tried to convey it in body language as much as possible. “He didn’t know about you. There’s a lot of bad things that I can lay at Peter’s feet over the last two years. And he’ll happily take credit for all of them. But Malia, he didn’t know you were out there. When you were born, he had his memories taken away. He found out he had a daughter the same time you found out he was your father.”

 

The younger girl looked down at her feet for a minute before replying. “You can give him my number, I guess. I’m not sure if I want to talk to him, but I guess if he has my number… Yeah, it’s fine.”

 

“Okay,” Lydia nodded. “Then I will.”

 

At the sound of the bell, class doors opened and students came flooding into the halls. Lydia turned away to head to her next class, but Malia called her back with a, “Hey, Lydia?” She turned to take another look at the girl standing a few feet away. “Thanks.”

 

With a small nod, she turned back to her path. After the next class, she and Stiles had their free period, then they could get out of there. She’d fill him in on the conversation once they got to the library, but she’d have to think about how to broach the subject with Peter.

 

She had been telling the truth to Malia when she said Peter would be happy about taking to his daughter. And even though he was involved in some of the more emotionally trying aspects of Lydia’s life lately, he’d never once spoken of Malia to her.

 

If he talked about it with anyone else, she didn’t know. But she’d studied his face whenever the subject was brought up.

 

Peter was great at deception. He was extremely skilled when it came to manipulation. But even the best liars have a tell. To his credit, he’d only slipped up once. But she’d been watching for it.

 

Lydia had seen the man pull a mask of indifference up so quickly whenever Malia was mentioned. But for a split second, one time only, he hadn’t been fast enough. She’d seen enough to know that there was pain there. She’d seen regret and longing.

 

Honestly, it had been one of the main catalysts for her to put her faith in Peter being sincere about wanting them all around. Helping him to build the same kind of relationship with his own daughter one day was the least she could do in the way of showing her appreciation.

 

They almost made it home free and clear, but were spotted on their way out of the school. Scott had Liam, Corey, and Mason with him when he caught up to them at Stiles’ locker.

 

“Hey man,” he called out around a carefree smile as the four of them caged the two against the wall. “We missed you at lunch, where were you guys?”

 

Stiles wondered if Scott knew how much of a threat his actions could be taken as. He glanced over to Lydia and saw a calm but defensive posture and tried to adopt the same.

 

“We were studying in the library, Scott.” He shut the locker behind him without turning around and slung his bag over his shoulder. “We’ve been doing that since the beginning of school, dude.”

 

“Really?” Scott asked, looking at the other three pack members. “I didn’t know that. Hey, maybe we can join you guys tomorrow.”

 

Lydia wrapped a hand around Stiles arm, pulling him closer to her side like they were going to start walking. Liam was blocking her path, and either didn’t pick up on the social cues that she wanted to get past, or didn’t care.

 

“We use the time to study for our classes and do homework,” she responded to the offer, pulling out every inch of the HBIC tone from her early high school career. “Since none of you take AP classes, I don’t see how you being there would be helpful.”

 

Stiles shrugged with a head tilt back at Scott, but didn’t comment.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” All conversations with Scott lately seemed to have the same flow to them. He feigned interest in the other person, but didn’t really seem to care about the response. And then made a request or demand, depending on the situation, before closing up with some kind of satisfaction that his expectations would be met.

 

This conversation looked like it was following the same trajectory, as Scott followed up quickly with, “Hey so I told Deaton that you had to reschedule from last week. He said to tell you he has time today.”

 

Stiles couldn’t believe it. Well, he could. But still. Where was the request? Where was the consideration for the fact that Stiles might already have plans?

 

“That’s cool, man. But today doesn’t work.” He could lie about it, same as he’d done on Friday, but the truth was available. “Lydia and I have a massive research paper due real soon.”

 

“Aw, really?” Scott whined in disappointment. “He really needs to talk to you, though. Do you think you can stop by for just a minute?”

 

“We really can’t, dude.” And now for a little careful fabrication of details. “I have to see my dad first, and then we need to stock up on food before we get started.”

 

He could see that Scott wasn’t happy with the answer, but he was still surprised at the next thing out of his friend’s mouth.

 

“Well why not just text your dad and say you’re stopping by my house to do your homework there?” Scott suggested. “Your dad loves me, man. He won’t mind.”

 

Stiles felt Lydia’s hand tighten fractionally on his arm in response to the tension starting to run through his muscles. Distantly, he was aware of a fight or flight instinct waking up, and took a deep breath to center himself. “I don’t lie to my dad, anymore.” He replied in a tight voice. At least he was able to unclench his teeth.

 

Scott reached out to tug on Stiles’ shirt, encouraging him to join him a few steps away from the group. When Lydia didn’t relax her grip, he settled for leaning in close and whispering, “He thinks you might be in danger, Stiles. He really needs to see you.”

 

It wasn’t enough for Lydia not to hear though, and she turned from her staring contest with Liam to address Scott directly. “Weren’t you the one who just told us a week ago that there was nothing to worry about in Beacon Hills?”

 

Stiles follow up and expressed an appropriate level of concern at Scott’s words. “Did you find something out with the coven? Are they dangerous?”

 

Scott sputtered for a few seconds, not knowing who to reply to first, then finally said, “What? No. It’s not about that.” He drew his shoulders back and stood tall.

 

Lydia thought his attempt to appear authoritative needed some work, but she wasn’t going to open that can of worms then and there. Her focus was getting them out of the building, but she froze at Scott’s next words. She barely noticed Stiles’ hiss when she dug her nails into his arm, but she didn’t register his discomfort enough to let go.

 

“Deaton’s got that covered, man. He says they’re fine. They just wanted to settle down somewhere peaceful. And they can help protect the town anyways.”

 

Stiles was proud of himself for keeping a sense of inconsequence about his movements, but Lydia’s nails were starting to hurt. And he wanted out of the conversation just as much as she seemed to.

 

“Then why would I be in danger?” He asked, and fought down the amusement at Scott’s confused face.

 

Stiles has always understood the little spark of enjoyment and mischief Peter must feel when talking circles around someone who can’t play at his level. It’s why he was always drawn to the other man. A worthy opponent to debate.

 

But this little talk had just taken a turn, and whether he knew it or not, Scott had just given away crucial information. This wasn’t the time for laughing at the expense of others. They needed to get away, they needed to regroup.

 

Stiles tucked his arm into his body as he turned away from the alpha, pulling Lydia in that much closer. He patted Liam’s shoulder on his way by, scooting the younger wolf slightly out of the way so they could pass.

 

They didn’t look back.

 

Lydia was still too tense to drive when they got to the parking lot, so he took her keys after opening the passenger door for her. When they got far enough from the school, he called Derek’s phone on the Bluetooth.

 

He gave the man a down and dirty recap and asked him to distract Lydia while they drove home. Without asking any questions, Derek proceeded to share his experience from earlier in the day meeting Leon.

 

Talking about interior decorating was a good way to get Lydia engaged in the distraction as it turned out. After the third mention of neon colors, Stiles was starting to wonder if Derek’s design choices weren’t a ruse to see how far he could push Lydia and Peter before their souls shriveled up at his sheer lack of taste.

 

It got a few laughs out of him, and he wasn’t surprised at all to see the man waiting for him in the parking garage when they pulled in.

 

Derek ended the call as he was walking over to their parking space. He reached in for Lydia’s bag, and put an arm around her shoulders as the three of them made their way over to the elevator.

 

“He knew,” Lydia whispered. “He knew all of it.”

 

Derek sent a quick confused look over to Stiles, but he shook his head. Whatever Lydia was seeing, or hearing, it was clear that the conversation earlier had left her on the edge of a banshee trance. He was thankful she had been able to hold it off until they were around the pack, but it was coming on quickly now.

 

Peter abandoned his meal prep as soon as they made it inside. He picked Lydia up from the ground and carried her into the study, the others trailing behind. “Derek, call Noah or Jordan. See how much longer they’ll be.”

 

He ran a hand down Lydia’s hair after settling her on one of the couches. Her stare was completely glazed over by then, she was pliant as he situated her, but all of her attention was focused on whatever vision or message she was receiving.

 

“Tell me what happened,” he asked Stiles softly.

 

He had just started explaining about the end of the school day when Derek came back in with the news that, “They’re about thirty minutes out.”

 

Stiles continued his story at Peter’s nod. He told them about this being the second time Scott tried to get him to go to Deaton’s, about the way the pack had cornered them. And about what Scott had said about Deaton claiming he’d talked to the coven and that they were peaceful.

 

“Stupid child,” Peter spit out, but his focus was on Lydia. She’d started to mumble, and he asked for silence.

 

Most of what she said at first was incoherent, but when her words became understandable, Peter started to carefully encourage her to give more.

 

“They weren’t alone. He knew. He was supposed to protect them. But he knew” She muttered. Stiles and Derek still had no idea what she was talking about, but Peter’s attention was rapt.

 

“How did he know, Lydia?” he asked, voice calm and low coaxing the answers out.

 

“She wanted his help. He loved her.”

 

Stiles turned to Derek, “Do you have any…” He stopped when Peter waived an arm at the two of them. After that, they accepted this was a look but don’t talk thing happening here.

 

“Did he help plan it?” Peter asked.

 

Lydia’s face scrunched up in distress for the first time since the trance started. “I can’t… I don’t know.”

 

“Shhhh,” he reassured her with his voice, not touching beyond holding her hands. “It’s okay, Lydia. That’s okay. Just tell me what you _can_ see.”

 

“It wasn’t his idea.” She confirmed after a few minutes. “But he didn’t stop it. He knew.”

After the repetitions of that one statement, “He knew,” started, Peter seemed to realize he wasn’t getting more. He sat back on his heels in front of Lydia and sighed.

 

Having a seer in the pack, even in the form of a banshee was a boon. Their visions didn’t give every little detail possible, and it took serious training to be able to ‘look’ on command, but the messages came when they were most needed. Peter knew that.

 

And he knew he’d have to be careful not to force those gleanings into his own preconceived notions of things, but he was pretty confident he knew what this message was saying. Even if Stiles and Derek didn’t.

 

He also knew that sharing this message’s meaning with Derek in particular was a volatile situation. He had the option to wait, at least until Maisy was recovered. And even if it meant he was still keeping things from the others, it was the option he was going with.

 

“Stiles, would you brew some tea? She’ll be waking up soon.” He watched the boy turn for the door and didn’t miss the way his nephew was studying him closely.

 

“You know what she’s talking about.” Derek stated as soon as they were alone.

 

Peter waited a minute before answering. He did some studying of his own, and took in exactly how defensive Derek was becoming. He trusted Peter, that was obvious. But he also knew what the man was like.

 

Derek knew his uncle played a lot of things close to the vest. It just wasn’t usually so blatantly staring him in the face.

 

“I have a theory, yes.” Peter answered. “Until it’s confirmed though, I’d rather keep that to myself.”

 

Derek closed his eyes, coming to terms with the fact that trusting Peter sometimes meant having faith that the things he didn’t tell them weren’t going to come back and bite them in the ass one day. But he knew with everything inside of him that Peter wanted what was best for the pack. All of the sneaky, underhanded things his uncle was capable of were all done in support of the pack.

 

He trusted that much, and it had to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm normally more active in the notes section of the fic when I post, but I've left it alone for this one. Until now. 
> 
> First, thank you to everyone who left kudos and a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments so far. I love reading them, so anytime you want to tell me what you think, I welcome your thoughts. Some of them are definitely on track with the direction this story is headed, so that was a nice validation. 
> 
> Second, this fic is pretty well fleshed out in my notes. Broad strokes and finer details already typed. It just takes a minute to put it into a readable format. But I'm still planning on sticking to the 8 chapters total. 
> 
> The next chapter is probably going to be a big one, so I'll see where it's at when I type. If it's big enough, I might cut it in half and post it separately. Bringing the total to nine chapters. We'll see when it comes. 
> 
> Thank you all again, and I really can't say that enough!


	7. Chapter 7

Noah knew his deputy was attached to Lydia already. Hell, he’d seen the young man go out of his way trying to please her enough times. Nothing crazy, just little things that showed her comfort and happiness were at the forefront of his decisions.

 

So it really wasn’t all that surprising when Jordan took the keys and ushered them back to the squad car after getting the call from Derek.

 

“You go on ahead, son,” Noah told him. He could see that Jordan wasn’t thinking clearly enough to remember things like signing off on the shift, or even letting anyone know why he was rushing out when they still had at least two hours on the clock.

 

He got a grim nod back. It could have been thanks, or it could just be an acknowledgment that Noah was staying behind. Either way, Jordan was through the door before another thirty seconds passed.

 

He was confident the others would let him know if it was an emergency. But he’d been the one to take the call from Derek. He knew Lydia was having a vision, and of course he wanted to be there. But he was certain that between Peter, Derek, Stiles, and Jordan, they had it covered.

 

There was also Mark and Jessie to help. They’d stuck around the apartment today, making sure they had everything they needed to get settled in. But the downtime was also good for them to breathe for a minute. They’d held up remarkably well, but Noah knew if it was his son missing, he’d be going out of his mind with the waiting.

 

Turning back to the rest of his deputies, he resolved himself to finishing out his shift. He was the sheriff after all, and the department didn’t stop running just because the pack had something else going on.

 

“Morales,” he called over to one of the newer hires. “Come show me the report on the break-in down on Poplar Street. What makes you think it’s connected to the Williams case?”

 

The young man popped up and rushed to grab the file off his desk. He quickly followed the sheriff back to his office, eager to explain his theories to his boss.

 

Noah already knew the two incidents weren’t connected, but the deputy was thrumming with energy. Part of his job as sheriff was to mentor the new deputies; help them grow as law enforcement officers.

 

Some of that was physical training, sure. And weapons training. But a lot of that was teaching the mind to find connections. To look at the evidence and see where a motive was hidden. To catch what someone else might miss.

 

Not for the first time, Noah was reminded of Stiles while observing his department. His son had a way of working through problems that would be perfect for the job. And maybe at one time, being a deputy was in Stiles’ future.

 

After everything that had gone on in the last two years though, he couldn’t see Stiles pursuing a career in the department anymore. His son would make a great detective, and he had no doubt Stiles would keep being exactly that. But it would be for the pack.

 

He would protect innocent lives, he had a big enough sense of community to do that. But at the end of the day, Stiles’ focus was geared more towards the smaller family unit than an entire town. Civilians would be safe as a secondary effect _because_ he was focused on keeping the threat as far from his family as possible.

 

He settled in behind his desk to listen to Morales explain his thinking. He was still wrong, but it was a solid effort.

 

By the time he got home, Derek and Jessie were at the table with Stiles attempting to help him with his research project and homework for school. They weren’t going to complete the projects for him, but they were pitching in while Lydia was occupied.

 

Mark was sorting through the trunks they had brought over downstairs to see if any of his old records had information on banshees. Peter’s library had a seriously impressive number of tomes on the supernatural, but there was always a chance that there was new information they weren’t aware of.

 

Lydia’s visions were sporadic at best. They came when they wanted to, which was admittedly good timing. But they showed only as much as they pleased, and only provided the details they wanted.

 

“That’s not to say she can’t learn to control them,” Peter explained to Noah when he joined him in the kitchen. “Think of it like senses for a werewolf. Just because a wolf has the ability to scent a room and know what happened there from the leftover chemo signals, doesn’t mean every wolf knows how to do it. They have to be taught.”

 

Peter placed what looked like a casserole on the oven rack and turned back to face Noah, leaning casually on a counter.

 

“Take Scott, for instance,” he said around a derisive smirk. “He’s been a wolf for years now. That’s a long time to learn to use his abilities, and he should be on par with Derek and myself in terms of picking out the details in someone’s scent. But from everything Stiles has told me, he plateaued somewhere after the first couple of months. That’s lazy, but that’s his choice. The ability is there, he just never worked at it.”

 

“So you think with enough time, Lydia can get control of the visions?” He asked.

 

Peter gave an indulgent tilt of his head. “She’s a banshee. The visions are always going to come on their own for her. But with enough training, she could learn to _see_ them better.”

 

Noah quietly acknowledged the statement. The subject matter was sometimes over his head when it came to the fact that fairytale monsters were real, and magic was a thing. But he’d seen enough, witnessed enough to know that everything he’d believed about the world he’d lived in since he was a child was only the surface. The reality was so much more.

 

It should’ve been seeing the darach that convinced him. But really, it was seeing Stiles during the nogitsune possession. After the hospital, then after eichen, after hoping and dreading it was a physical illness, it finally hit him when he was watching that thing wear his son’s face.

 

He was involved after that. And he quickly caught on to the fact that just because he didn’t understand how something existed, didn’t mean that it didn’t exist. And denial would only get someone hurt.

 

Given that it was Stiles, and then Lydia who were typically found in the epicenter of the whole mess, Noah made it a point to listen and learn as much as possible.

 

Having Derek around helped. He got along with the young man in the same way that he did his deputies. When he learned the alpha, beta, omega structure of werewolf society, he slotted Derek into a beta position pretty firmly in his mind. He knew the man had been an alpha at one time. But he made such a strong beta, and he could tell it was a much more comfortable role for him.

 

Seeing Peter take charge of the pack, even as a beta himself, and seeing how he made room for Derek in his life cemented the belief that the older wolf was much more suited to the position than his nephew.

 

He knew what Peter was capable of, and the man would never shy away from that truth. But he could also see what the others saw when they looked at Peter. They saw someone who had no qualms about protecting his family, even when things turned bloody. Especially when things turned bloody.

 

The supernatural world was not meant to follow the rules of human society. It was oftentimes much uglier than that. It was brutal. And making a mistake usually meant someone was dead, or close to it.

 

Noah understood and accepted that as easily as he understood that he still had a job to do as sheriff. He had to walk in both worlds. He had to immerse himself in the supernatural if he had a hope in hell of protecting his son. And he had to dedicate himself to his sheriff duties for the sake of the county.

 

He was tired more often than not lately. And he didn’t want to even think about where they would be at this point without Peter drawing the pack together. Despite the general exhaustion, he was happy. And he knew Stiles and Lydia were happy.

 

Being surrounded by family had a funny way of making it all worth it.

 

He didn’t know if he believed in fate. But he remembered the night of the Hale fire. Noah had been the deputy who’d discovered a badly burned Peter in the basement. He’d entered with the EMTs after the fire was put out, convinced they were going in to recover bodies. And they had. But when he was checking the body closest to the tunnel, confused as to why the man hadn’t just gone through it, he’d realized the man was alive.

 

Noah had escorted him to the hospital, and checked on him a few times afterwards. But after the doctors declared the man was in a coma with no telling when or even if he’d wake up, Noah had been too distracted to keep tabs on him.

 

Maybe the universe had a way of throwing people into each other’s path over and over again until they got with the program. Whatever the reason, he knew with every human instinct he had, that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was family, or maybe more importantly, he was pack.

 

And pack looked after each other. Which was why he gladly made his way to the study to check on Lydia when Peter asked him to.

 

She was sleeping, with Jordan keeping her safe and grounded on the sofa. He sent the young man a smile at the sight, happy that the two were so content with each other already that Lydia was relaxed enough to rest beside him.

 

“Dinner’s ready soon,” he whispered over to the deputy before softly shutting the door behind him on the way out.

 

Led by Jordan, Lydia did make it out for the meal almost an hour later. The rest of the group were still at the table when Peter rose to meet them.

 

He gently guided her to her normal chair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head after she sat down. Stiles immediately grabbed for her hand and held it firmly in his own until Jordan returned with a plate of food for her to eat.

 

Her visions didn’t typically take so much out of her, but Stiles knew she’d been struggling to fight off something big on the ride home. When it took over, he realized she was being shown an overwhelming amount of information.

 

Past visions had been frustrating because they contained so little. They would come and go rapidly, and Lydia would be left trying to figure out what they meant. This was different. She could barely look at Peter without her eyes tearing up.

 

It wasn’t a shock to anyone when Peter wasted no time at all once her meal was done to mention, “That third apartment below is going to need quite a bit of work. With all of the changes needed up here, it just feels like I’m burning out on renovations. Lydia, would you mind taking a walk-through with me? I was hoping to get another eye for details, and we all know Derek can’t be trusted to pitch in.”

 

The young wolf in question rolled his eyes, but didn’t condemn the slight. He knew, and so did anyone with a brain at that table, that the conversation Peter had in mind had nothing to do with interior design.

 

He trusted Peter to tell them the details when they needed to know. And even though he was curious, he could see that Lydia needed to sort through the vision. Peter was in the best place to help her with that.

 

Once the table was cleared, and Stiles was set up to work on his projects again, Peter and Lydia took the elevator down to the lower level.

 

They went alone, and they were gone for hours. By the time they got back, Mark and Jessie were headed to bed. The rest of them following very soon after.

 

No one asked what was discussed, and Peter excused himself shortly after coming back up, not saying good night to the others. Not even to Stiles.

 

With the confrontation with the coven coming up, the extra tension in the apartment was not even close to welcome. But it was what it was.

 

By breakfast the next morning, Peter was back to his usual self. Mostly. Stiles could tell the man was holding himself a little tighter than normal, and they all wordlessly accepted the man’s apparent need for physical reassurance of their presence before breaking for the day.

 

It was obvious enough that after Stiles had put on his backpack and collected his travel mug of coffee, he did an about face right before walking out the door to march back into the kitchen, set the mug on the counter, and wrap his arms around the older wolf.

 

He didn’t say anything, neither did Peter. But he let out a relieved sigh when the man relaxed into the embrace and turned his face into Stiles’ neck. He put everything he had into _not_ squirming at the ticklish sensations from the stubble rubbing on the skin and the deep puffs of breath.

 

He let go only after Peter had lifted his head away, nodding once, and turning to catch up with Lydia in the hallway.

 

After a blessedly quiet school day, Stiles drove Lydia and himself out to the preserve where he caught Peter’s hand almost as soon as they met up with him for the trek to the nemeton. He held it the entire walk there.

 

The entire pack made the trip. This would be the last day before the full moon. And while they weren’t planning on being out all night, they needed to spend a few hours making sure everyone had the lay of the land.

 

Stiles and Mark set up on the tree stump as soon as they got there and settled down into the familiar meditation routine.

 

Peter joined them for the first time. He couldn’t connect with the tree like they could, but as Stiles went into a relaxed state he held onto Peter’s hand.

 

He felt the barest touch of acceptance from the tree. Acceptance, peace, and power. It wasn’t like the alpha power. But Peter could _feel_ that the tree was aware of what was coming, and was providing what aid it could.

 

By the time they came back up, he felt centered. Their odds for seeing this through were growing steadily in their favor. Peter didn’t want to get cocky, but he _was_ feeling confident as they headed home.

 

He was able to show the rest of them his plans for the patio area later that evening, and even though they didn’t have a table out there yet, the pack took their meal in the fresh air. Relaxing afterwards under the sunset as Peter pointed out the changes that were coming for the space.

 

Mark and Jessie were both a little more emotional when he showed them what he wanted to do for a play area. And Jessie actually stopped him at one time with a quick hug and a whispered, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The tension in the air was at an all time high the next morning. They all made a solid effort to act like it was any other Wednesday morning, but conversation was stilted, and expressions were mostly stony.

 

Lydia and Stiles knew they weren’t coming back to school for the rest of the week, so they picked up their assignments from the classes as they attended them. Lunch was spent getting as much of the work out of the way as they could before their last class.

 

They had no intention of sticking around for their free hour, and silently packed up their lockers to head out to the parking lot.

 

The bell for the start of the next class had already rung, and the halls were empty. Which was why they were shocked to see Scott and his entire pack waiting for them on the front steps of the building.

 

Stiles had noticed the brooding looks Scott had given him the few times he’d seen him earlier, but the alpha hadn’t tried to talk to him again, and he really didn’t think he would.

 

“Stiles,” Scott greeted him. There was no warmth anymore. No joking. No goofy _‘hey, man. how’s it going?’_ And he didn’t address Lydia at all. The full focus of his gaze was on Stiles.

 

“Hey, Scott,” he answered back, deciding to ignore the boy’s _‘I mean business’_ expression. “Do you guys mind? We kinda need to get to the car.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response, just took hold of Lydia’s hand and pushed past the betas on the steps. Malia at least seemed to move out of the way on her own.

 

“Yeah, I kinda _do_ mind,” Scott said as he followed them down to the parking lot. “We need to talk Stiles. And you need to come with me.”

 

“Dude,” Stiles said before he felt a hand reach out to grab his wrist. He rotated his arm in a quick wide arc, breaking the hold, and moving himself and Lydia a few feet away before stopping and turning to face Scott. “Dude, what the hell are you even doing?”

 

Evidently, boundaries were a thing of the past for Scott. And Stiles wasn’t surprised that personal space fell into that category for the boy. He stepped himself and Lydia back another few feet when Scott tried to get closer.

 

“Scott, I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but we’re leaving. Now.” Stiles wasn’t interested in keeping things on an even keel anymore. Well, maybe just a little. Just enough to make it to Lydia’s car and drive away.

 

But there was no more pretending this was a friendly meeting. And there was no point in pretending Scott thought of Stiles as even remotely a packmate anymore. Honestly, this was a long time coming.

 

“You’re coming with me to Deaton’s.” Scott insisted, voice raised and determined.

 

Stiles bit back a harsh laugh. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere _close_ to Deaton right now. And you need a lot of work on your senses if you think I’m going _anywhere_ with you.”

 

He started backing them away from the pack, towards the spot he knew the car was parked in. Scott advanced. And though they were several paces back, so did the others.

 

He watched as Scott’s nose flared at the mention of using his senses, and narrowed his eyes a few seconds after.

 

Scott tilted his head and stared at Stiles with an accusatory glare. “Why do you smell like Peter?”

 

This time Stiles did laugh. And it was anything but friendly. “Well that took you long enough. I was actually thinking you’d be able to tell a while ago.”

 

He kept his glare, but there was a flicker of confusion on Scott’s forehead. It was quickly removed when Lydia spoke up with a bored sounding, “I didn’t.”

 

“Peter’s not the bad guy, Scott.” Stiles argued. “He makes sure I’m doing okay, that I’m alright. Which is something I thought I had you for, but where the hell have you been, Scott? You would have known about Peter if you spent even five minutes with me lately. When’s the last time you actually wanted to hang out? Can you remember the last time were even inside my house? Or called me, or hell, even texted me? I can’t. And I had no idea why. I was left alone for months Scott. We both were.” He gestures to Lydia. “And Peter helped us. He was there for both of us.”

 

Lydia noticed the look of interest on Malia’s face at that. She was still in Scott’s pack, and it was clear what he thought of Peter. But even so, Peter was Malia’s father. That had to count for something. Seeing the girl’s thoughtful expression, Lydia had to guess that Malia was considering the same thing. It had to count for something.

 

“I knew this would happen,” Scott spat. “Peter can’t be trusted. But you fell for it, didn’t you? Whatever lies he told you, you let him in. Just like last time.”

 

Stiles knew exactly what Scott was referring to. He was done trying to reason with the boy. As soon as the words were out of Scott’s mouth, he felt a deep, cold fortitude settle into his bones. If the friendship wasn’t damaged before, it was certainly circling the drain now. He’d always suspected Scott blamed him for the nogitsune, but he’d never had it confirmed.

 

“This is what I’m talking about,” Scott carried on, oblivious to the fact that any trust, any relationship between the two of them had just announced its imminent departure. “Deaton can fix this. Whatever Peter wants you for, we can keep you safe. It doesn’t have to be like before. We won’t let you hurt anyone.”

 

The sad thing was, that last bit was said with Scott’s familiar pleading whine that it almost seemed like he cared. Like he honestly believed Stiles was in danger, and he was doing everything to save his best friend. Because Stiles was the danger.

 

And that was what it all boiled down to. Scott saw Stiles as dangerous. He was the monster that needed to be stopped, not a scared seventeen-year-old who’d had his entire life taken over and summarily run into the ground by an ancient, demented fox demon.

 

Whatever happened next, whatever came after this, there was no going back to what it was before. Scott may not realize that yet, but this wasn’t friends growing apart. This was Stiles cutting the albatross from his neck. This was Stiles saving himself, and accepting that he couldn’t save Scott.

 

“I’m sorry that’s what you think,” Stiles told him, tired of this conversation, but unwilling to let his guard down and feeling a protective rage boiling past the fatigue. “Peter’s done nothing but be a friend to me. To Lydia. Did you even ask Lydia how she was doing? Her mom basically abandons her to run off on a honeymoon cruise, missing her birthday, by the way, and did you even check in on her? She just lost her best friend!”

 

“So did I!” Scott yelled back. “You know what you did. You know how hard it was for me to be around you. And I needed some time after Allison! I was grieving, too. Lydia understands that even if you don’t!”

 

“No, Scott. I don’t understand.” Lydia had remained beside Stiles, but just behind his shoulder throughout the confrontation. She took a tiny step forward and calmly explained, “You’re treating Stiles like somehow it was his fault. The thing that killed Allison might have looked like him, and acted like him. But it wasn’t Stiles.”

 

Scott looked mildly distressed at her, as though Lydia was the one taken by naivety. “It was though. Can’t you see it?” He waived his arms out to emphasize his certainty, stepping forward and not seeming to notice as they matched his advance with an equal step of retreat. “All three of us were sacrifices, and Deaton warned us that there was the possibility for darkness, but he’s the only one that let it in!”

 

It was like watching a train wreck. Neither Lydia nor Stiles ever really thought they’d hear a rant like this from Scott. They were frozen silent as they watched him slip further from any kind of rational headspace.

 

Scott looked over at Stiles again and continued, “But Deaton can help you. You’re coming with me right now Stiles. Deaton has a way to keep the nogitsune from ever coming back, so we’re going.”

 

He slowly shook his head back at the delusional wolf and coolly reminded him, “It’s dead, Scott. You know it’s dead, you were there when we killed it.”

 

Moving away from a persuasion tactic, the alpha’s face contorted in a snarl, “Then something else like it, whatever. But you’re putting everyone else in danger until we fix it.” He grabbed Stiles’ arm and started to drag him away from Lydia. Away from the car, and away from safety.

 

Stiles knew, objectively, that Scott had werewolf level strength. And he’d been up against a werewolf’s strength in the past. And he was coming into his spark more and more each day. He knew he could hold his own against a wolf.

 

But for some reason, his brain never made the connection that he would be facing Scott when he would have the need to use his own abilities against a werewolf.

 

It’s the shock that it’s Scott more than anything that keeps him from fighting back. His body is tugged forward with the force of Scott’s yank, before a hand on his shoulder digs in and keeps him in place.

 

Another man’s arm slid into his periphery a moment before he saw Jordan reach forward to grab ahold of Scott’s wrist, effectively stopping the other boy from pulling him in.

 

He shot a hasty look over his shoulder and saw his father ushering Lydia behind him before stepping closer to the three of them.

 

“Let him go,” Jordan all but growls out at the alpha. When Scott didn’t, a deep orange glow flickered into Jordan’s eyes. Stiles saw a hint of fang peeking out from the deputy’s lips seconds before the hand holding onto Scott’s wrist was engulfed in concentrated fire.

 

Almost as soon as the flames licked onto the wolf’s skin, Scott let go of Stiles’ arm and Jordan released him with a shove towards the agitated betas crowding behind him.

 

“Stiles, how about you ride with me,” Noah said, though his eyes never left Scott’s pack. It wasn’t a suggestion, but Stiles couldn’t think of anything he wanted more in that moment than to leave that parking lot with his dad. “Is there a problem here, Scott?” Noah asked.

 

“No. uh, no. There’s no problem.” For the first time in a while, Stiles watched Scott adopt a slightly less than arrogant stance. He didn’t think it was fear exactly. But he was at least exercising a little caution.

 

Jordan took a step in front of Stiles, and he realized the other man was making himself a barrier between them and the other pack. And that’s what this whole show was, wasn’t it. He didn’t want it to go down like this, but it happened nevertheless.

 

On one side of Jordan stood the McCall pack. On the other, three of the Hales. Four if Jordan was to be counted. If there were ever pack bonds flowing between Lydia and Stiles, and the McCall pack, they dried up a long time ago.

 

Maybe it had been a gradual dissolution. But the fact was, looking back across the parking lot as he made his way to the squad car, and as Jordan climbed into Lydia’s car, he felt no great loss. There was no pain, no yearning for the connection with the other students.

 

The line had been drawn between them. He didn’t know on how many fronts they could fight a war, and he felt no desire to actually _go to war_ with Scott. But he knew with sudden and striking clarity: If Scott came after them, he would put him down.

 

Not kill. He didn’t want to kill him. But he wouldn’t let him hurt the pack either.

 

Thinking of the boy Scott used to be, the friendship they used to have, Stiles figured it would probably take a hell of a lot for him to ever want him dead. He was a little frightened however, when he tried to muster up the belief that he would save him if it came to it. He wasn’t so sure he would. And he prayed he was never put in the position where he would have to find out.

 

“Jesus, kid,” Noah said around a deep breath as he pulled out of the lot. “Jesus.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles croaked back. He didn’t know what else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... there will be an extra chapter. I considered just pressing on and making this one giant update. But after I had it typed up, and knowing where the story's going after this, I felt it needed to breathe for a minute. So, I shuffled the rest of the notes/plans into it's own chapter. Hope that's not disappointing. 
> 
> Two more to go! Almost there!!!


	8. Chapter 8

Walking into the penthouse, the four of them were met with frantic hovering and nervous energy. They were hours from battle, and the rest of the pack had stuck close to their den for the day.

 

If he could have talked them into it, Peter would have kept the four of them home too. But Noah and Jordan were just as adamant as Lydia and Stiles that they needed to finish up their respective obligations before the full moon.

 

He hadn’t been thrilled about it, but at least they would be paired up while they were away. Lydia and Stiles had the same schedule for classes. And apart from using different bathrooms, they never separated from each other while at the school. Likewise, Noah had partnered himself up with Jordan for shifts even before they’d moved into the apartments.

 

If they had to be away, at least they weren’t by themselves.

 

Which counted for nothing in Peter’s mind as he saw Stiles step off the elevator with shaking hands.

 

“What a fucking shitshow,” the boy sighed out as Peter pulled him into a hug. Noah didn’t even chide him for the language, just nodded back. Apparently, that summed up the event.

 

“What happened?” Peter asked around a growl. He didn’t like being in the dark, and he’d not been aware of trouble apart from a very low-level thrum of energy across the pack bonds in his head. He knew they were as strong as they could get while being a beta and the pack not actually having an alpha. It was unbelievably frustrating that it wasn’t enough.

 

Stiles let Noah and Jordan outline what they’d walked in on before he explained how the whole thing started, and what Scott had said.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on in his head,” he said, hands doing a quick scrub of his face. Though his expression remained baffled and a little disappointed. “Scott's always been stubborn about things, but this is… this is just…” he shook his head, a little lost for words.

 

“This is Scott,” Lydia told him. Stiles knew she loved him. He knew her respect for him as a person was just as high as his own respect for her. But her tone was cold and contemptuous as she looked at him. “Stiles, there’s a reason I was never nice to you and Scott before. Part of that was for my own benefit, but most of it was because of Scott. Because of who he is. I’d honestly be surprised if his IQ was much higher than seventy. It’s insulting to me, how easy it would’ve been to manipulate him.”

 

 _Jesus, they were all sociopaths,_ Stiles thought when he considered Lydia’s words. Peter, Stiles, Lydia… they went about things differently, but they had the same view of the world underneath it all. And maybe that was too general of a term. And not entirely accurate. A sociopath didn’t form emotional connections to others. They weren’t capable of it.

 

Conversely, Stiles knew without a doubt that the three of them cared for each other, for the pack deeply. Their actions and how they saw others were firmly rooted in their love and devotion to their family.

 

And Scott? Well, Stiles had to accept that Scott was no longer part of that. He knew it, he’d felt it in that parking lot. Except, he had been. There was a time when Scott was the closest thing to a brother Stiles ever thought he would get.

 

But he realized Lydia had never felt that. She had studied the boy for as long as it took to reach a conclusion, which hadn’t been very long at all. And she’d found the other boy to be unworthy of another glance.

 

“Just because I wasn’t going to do it,” Lydia continued. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t fall for it from someone else. It’s really not that hard. Make him feel special, make him feel important. Tell him that he’s the only one _strong enough_ to do something. And then tell him that if he doesn’t do it, someone he loves is going to suffer.”

 

“Look at what happened with Gerard,” Derek spoke up, agreeing with Lydia’s summation. “He had Scott thinking the only way to save Allison was to help him. Scott held me down and forced me to bite the man who murdered my family. I don’t give a shit if he had a secret plan to poison him. I was an alpha, and he forced me to make that man a beta.”

 

Peter had been watching the whole conversation, firmly attached to Stiles’ side. He hadn’t been planning to let the rest of the pack in on the full scope of the evidence he’d collected, but at Derek’s words he decided he had to.

 

If Derek was able to look at the past and accept that the Argents were complicit in the death of his family, rather than himself, maybe it was time. Maybe he could handle it. Some of it at least.

 

“And how could a young wolf, months into the bite, overpower an alpha born into the shift? Where did that strength come from?”

 

He looked over at Lydia. They’d had a very long discussion the night before about what was going on, and what had taken place in Beacon Hills the night of the fire. She knew where he was going with the question and raised her eyebrows, asking for permission to share their talk with the pack. He gave a quick nod back.

 

“The night of the Hale fire, Deaton took what was probably his first step towards becoming a darach. Him and his sister. I don’t think the nemeton was available to him, and I don’t think he knew how to find it until your sacrifice,” She looked over at Stiles for that. “But he got a pretty big boost from the death of so many wolves at one time. And having a born wolf laying in a hospital bed was too good of a resource to pass up. Peter should’ve woken up from that coma a long time ago.”

 

Peter had already known what the man had done. There were just too many trails that led back to him. But even though he’d had a tiny amount of alertness in the coma, he hadn’t been absolutely sure. At least he wasn’t until Lydia’s vision. And he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

Wherever Lydia’s visions came from, they had helped him gain confidence in his suspicions. He took the confirmation hard the night before, but also welcomed the flicker of absolution it brought with it.

 

“We don’t know that he brought the coven here, I don’t think he did.” Peter told the room. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s working with them. Whether he knew about Maisy’s spark? If he was the one behind her abduction? Who’s to say. But he knew about Stiles.”

 

Peter and Lydia went over the events in the past where they believed Deaton had siphoned off the energy from Stiles for his own purposes without anyone being the wiser.

 

Noah didn’t think of himself as a conspiracy theorist. He felt he had a firm grip on reality, but their revelations were giving him something to think about. Stiles’ spark didn’t come from the ether. It was hereditary, like being born a werewolf. It’s something he got from one of his parents. And it hadn’t come from him.

 

Which only left his wife as the source. Mark had explained a few nights ago that Stiles’ spark waking up was always going to happen. It didn’t matter if the child was trained from birth or not. Sparks never reached adulthood without being aware of it.

 

“Could he have had another source?” He asked Peter. “Before Stiles. Could he have done this to someone else?”

 

Peter looked over at Noah with confusion at first, and then sudden understanding. The amount of suffering the people in this room had been through seemed to never end. He hadn’t anticipated this was a possibility, but he knew after thinking about it for a few seconds that it was very probable.

 

“It’s possible,” he told the man, trying to be careful of his feelings. Having Noah on board with the situation was good. And if the man had more than one threat to his family to consider, all the better. But they were talking about murder.

 

Well, another one. But this was the murder of Noah’s wife. It had been slow, and it had been ugly. And neither Stilinski had ever really gotten past it. Losing someone to a disease and losing them to murder were very different feelings. Neither was fair, but a degenerative disease like Claudia had wasn’t tangible. There was nothing that could’ve stopped it.

 

Murder was very, very different. There was the feeling of something being _taken_ from the family before its time. An injustice that could’ve been prevented. With murder, there was someone to blame. Another human being who could be punished.

 

With murder, there was the possibility for revenge and maybe some form of closure. It was a cold comfort, but a comfort none the less.

 

When he looked at Noah, and felt Stiles’ grip on his waist tighten, he knew that both of these men were undeniably ready and willing to see that justice came to the druid.

 

There was one more aspect of Lydia’s vision that had uncovered some hard truths. But that was one he didn’t see as having any benefit to their mission that night. He shot the girl a quelling stare when she sent him a look questioning if he wanted her to continue. She nodded back, understanding why he would want to keep that particular piece to himself.

 

They had preparations to see to anyway.

 

“Jessie,” Lydia directed the conversation away from the past. “The two of us are probably going to be the most vulnerable tonight. The rest of them have offensive strength, and Noah has his gun. But you and I aren’t going to have much to hold our own against them.”

 

To her credit, Jessie looked around the room and accepted the truth of the statement. But her resolve to get her daughter back outweighed the risk to herself. “Then give me a gun.” She replied. “I’m human, I know that. I can be hurt, and I won’t heal like a wolf. But I grew up in a pack. I know how to take care of myself.”

 

Her tone brokered no arguments, and no one wanted to give her one anyway. This wasn’t just about a pack mate for her and Mark. This was their child; Maisy’s safety came before their own, no matter the cost.

 

* * *

 

The wait was excruciating, but within a few hours the pack climbed into Derek’s SUV and Noah’s squad car. The trip was made in silence, physical reassurances being preferred over vocal ones.

 

That silence stayed with them as they parked on the closest trail leading to the nemeton’s clearing. It wasn’t too far of a walk, but they made their way through the darkness slowly to avoid too much sound.

 

The moon was full and heavy in the sky, but the light didn’t reach through the canopy until they came closer to the clearing. The sounds of the coven chanting became clearer the closer they got until they could make out the latin being used, even if the didn’t understand it.

 

Mark had studied witches and covens more than the rest of them, even though he’d never been near one before. He had been sure their focus would be on the ritual instead of their surroundings, and they were happy to discover he was right.

 

None of the witches turned around as they drew closer. The pack counted nine of them and took in the way the hooded figures were standing in a horseshoe open to the nemeton, well inside of the wards Stiles had originally put in place.

 

It was planned that way, though. During the pack’s meeting at the tree the night before, Stiles and Mark had pulled the borders of the wards back to the tree itself. They didn’t want to risk the coven changing their minds about the location at the last minute if there was a barrier in place.

 

Fanning out around them, the pack got as close as they dared. The coven would’ve cast a circle before they started, and they didn’t want to alert them ahead of time.

 

But they could see Maisy in the middle of it all. She was scared and crying, though she wasn’t screaming or vocalizing any pain. Just distress.

 

The coven had bound her hands in front of her and tied her to a stake that hadn’t been there the night before. Despite her struggling to pull away, the bindings were holding.

 

The chanting continued as one of the witches moved forward and poured a liquid on the little girl. She screamed in terror and that was as much as Jessie was able to stand.

 

She raised the gun Noah had given her and shot the witch standing over her daughter. It stopped the one, but the other eight immediately turned to face them.

 

Several things happened at once after that. A dagger came flying out from the center of the coven inside a wave of golden energy. Both of which hit Jessie dead on.

 

Mark rushed to his wife on the ground, alive but badly wounded. Peter and Derek let out twin roars, Stiles threw up a brightly glowing shield around Jessie feeling Mark’s own spark adding to its strength, and Jordan’s entire body erupted in flames.

 

Just like they had with Scott earlier, the flames didn’t seem to bother the man, but they were terrifying to look at.

 

The coven waited though. They weren’t attacking, and Peter was two seconds away from retaliating regardless when two more figure came forward from behind the nemeton.

 

Deaton and Marin had chosen not to wear their hoods up, but they were dressed in the same black cloak as the coven. They weren't alone either.

 

From behind the two druids, they could see the glowing eyes of the McCall pack entering the battlefield.

 

Lydia stepped closer to Jordan, both of them standing in front of Mark and Jessie on the ground. She reached out to grab Jordan’s hand and the gasps of the other pack could be heard when her own body was covered in a different kind of flame.

 

Unlike with the deputy, the fire surrounding her didn’t burn away her clothing, it didn’t seem to be touching her at all, just hovering over and around her in a bright green brilliance.

 

“Sidhe,” One of the witches hissed. Peter smirked at the coven, and the other pack. He was proud of how far Lydia had come in her research if she was able to tap into the banshee this deeply.

 

One of the witches, likely the same one who called out at Lydia’s transformation, sent a blast of energy towards her. Roaring at the attempt, Jordan took a step forward and caught it before it hit. He held it in his hands, absorbing the light into his flames, and hurtled it back out when he was done.

 

The entire clearing was bordered in fire from the action. It wasn’t climbing the trees or traveling across the ground, but a glowing circle of flames was erected along the borders. Instinctively, the others knew that the barrier was not to be crossed. Nothing in, and nothing out.

 

The young McCall pack inched away from the fire behind them. Apart from Scott, none of them looked like they had come out that night to take part in a fight, and now things were getting very real for them. Liam looked scared but angry, always a breath away from violence anyway. But the others looked apprehensive as they took in the scene.

 

Still, they were gathered behind their alpha, ready to defend him.

 

Deaton hadn’t said a word since arriving on the scene. He seemed content to let Scott do that for him.

 

“You see, Stiles,” Scott shouted over at him. “You see what you’ve done.”

 

Peter slowly positioned himself at Stiles’ back. He had come into this with his focus partly on the young man to begin with, and there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted Stiles undefended.

 

“I told you Peter was up to something!” Scott didn’t notice some of his pack were looking like they wanted to be anywhere but here. This wasn’t a fight they were prepared for, or even trained for. And they knew they were in way over their heads. Scott kept shouting, oblivious to their discomfort. “I told you! What did I say at the pack meeting? I told you to leave the witches alone! They’re not here to hurt anyone, they’re here to help us!”

 

Mark stood up from Jessie’s side. She had slipped into unconsciousness from the pain, and he was using nearly all of his strength to keep her breathing. But this teenaged alpha in front of him had sparked an anger that he couldn’t ignore anymore. He’d heard all about the kid’s antagonism towards the Hales, and was disgusted by the way he’d treated the rest of them, his joke of a pack.

 

Stiles had told Mark about Isaac, and then Scott’s reaction to Isaac and Allison. He was a petulant, spoiled child. And he thought himself worthy of the alpha status. Not a chance.

 

“They have my fucking daughter tied to a god damned stake!” He shouted back. “You think they’re here to help us? That’s my daughter!”

 

Maisy was still crying, though she could see her dad clearly. Her three-year-old mind knew the people around her were bad, and all she could do was cry out for her parents. It was heartbreaking for the Hale pack, but it drew their focus to a sharp determination: They would save her.

 

“They _are_ here to help,” Scott replied. His voice was lowered in volume, but still obstinate. He nodded towards Deaton and the coven. One of them pulled out another dagger, shining from the reflected flames.

 

“No!” Mark screamed. He rushed past the pack, zeroing in on his little girl just as the witch holding the dagger brought it down into her tiny body. “No!”

 

The rest of the Hale pack ran after him, but Mark was too far ahead. Three of the witches caught him as he tried to make his way past. Two held him down as the third stabbed him in the chest.

 

For the first time in his life, Stiles threw his hand out and watched as a tight ball of energy flew towards the witch with the knife. He saw the face of the man as the hood flew back from the rush of wind holding him off the ground. It was only for a few seconds before the sound of a gun went off and the man’s head snapped to the side from the bullet’s impact.

 

Noah had always been a good shot.

 

The gunshot had the effect of a starter’s pistol being fired. The clearing erupted in chaos. The rest of the coven turned back to Maisy and started chanting again, Deaton and Marin alongside them now. Scott and his pack were guarding them while trying to fight off Peter and Derek.

 

When he reached Mark, Stiles knelt down and tried to push his energy into his mentor’s body. Focusing on healing like he’d done with the nemeton.

 

“No,” Mark told him, coughing up blood beside his slurring words. “Need the energy for Maisy. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste it on me.”

 

Stiles knew he was crying. But he couldn’t do anything about that. He knew what Mark was asking, but he felt like he had enough energy for both. He could save them both.

 

When Mark passed out, Stiles renewed his efforts to heal the man. He could feel it working, but it was slow. Maybe too slow. He felt a wave of panic go through him as his spark was telling him that Mark was nearly gone. It might not be enough, but he would give it everything he had.

 

Slipping into something close to the meditation he and Mark did on the nemeton that first time, Stiles reached for the currents of energy below. There was power there. He remembered feeling it before. Now he just needed to tap into it.

 

Like the currents had been waiting on him all along, he felt them reach back up and welcome him to take what he needed. He was down deep, he knew that. The sounds of shouting and fighting were happening around him, and he could almost make out words, but the power he needed was so close. He just had to go a little further.

 

Up in the clearing, Noah was yelling out to Scott. He knew these kids. They went to school with Stiles. They didn’t want to do this.

 

Scott told them not to listen, that the sheriff was as corrupted as Stiles.

 

“You talk about corruption like you aren’t headed that way yourself, Scott.” Derek sent back. “What do you think Deaton’s doing right now? Do you realize he’s sacrificing a child!”

 

“No, we need to,” Scott said. Imploring the others to see reason. “The nemeton is drawing the monsters here. It needs to be stopped. Deaton is the only one who can fix it.”

 

“By killing a child?” Peter shouted in incredulity. “I always knew you were an idiot, Scott. But I never thought you could be this blind.”

 

“You shut up!” he screamed back. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t come back and broken the balance, none of this would need to happen.”

 

“The _balance_?” Peter taunted. “Sounds like you’ve been sitting at the druid’s table a little too long, hmm? And now you’re going to lead your pack to slaughter. Because, believe me, Scott. I’m not leaving this place without that girl. And if they stand in my way, I’ll tear them to shreds right next to you.”

 

“I’d like to see you try it,” Scott glared back. His eyes bleeding to red as his claws came out.

 

Malia was done with this. Peter was right, he wouldn’t stop until they were dead. What was more, he would be right to do it. Scott hadn’t told them why they were coming here. He hadn’t told them about the kid tied to a post about to die.

 

Malia could hear the girl’s heartbeat; she was still alive. But she might not be for long with that kind of wound. And in all her time as a coyote, she’d never killed needlessly. Killing a kid? That was as needless as it got.

 

She walked across the grass until she was standing in front of the sheriff. He had always been decent to her. And out of the rest of the Hale pack, he was the most vulnerable.

 

“Malia, what are you doing?” Scott yelled at her as she turned away from Noah and took up a protective stance in front of him.

 

“He's right, Scott.” She told him coolly. “You didn’t tell us about the witches. Or why we had to come here. You said we don’t kill people.” She gestured to Maisy where the girl was now lying unconscious, surrounded by the coven. “Well, she’s people. You’re not an alpha. Not mine at least.”

 

Peter smiled at Scott’s outrage. “What now, Scott? Your pack’s not up for this kind of challenge. Are you going to step aside, or do I have to kill them all?”

 

Instead of an answer, Scott threw himself at Peter. Liam wasn’t far behind in attacking Derek, and two of the witches broke off from the chant to fight alongside them. Corey, Hayden, and Mason took a step away from the battle. They fought before, when they believed Scott was right. But the killing a kid thing was a step too far for them. They didn’t want to be on either side, they just wanted to be gone.

 

Unfortunately, the flames wouldn’t let them leave. But they stepped as far away from the mess as possible.

 

Stiles was still traveling in the currents as the clashing took place overhead. The power was calming down below, soothing as it flowed around and inside him. It was only the sound of Peter crying out that caught his attention away from the silver ribbons trailing across his body.

 

Peter had seen the youngest wolf in the clearing jump on Derek’s back as the two witches held him in place. He broke away from his own fight with Scott to stop it. Just as he reached them and ripped Liam off his nephew, flinging him several yards away, he felt the slice of claws shred through the skin and muscle on his back.

 

He cried out in rage and pain as Lydia started to walk from her place protecting Jessie. The green flames followed her as she moved closer to the group around the nemeton with an ethereal grace. She stopped by Stiles and Mark, reaching down to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 

He was already starting to come back to himself a little, but as Lydia ran her hand down his arm towards his hand, a chilling calm came over him.

 

“Stiles,” she called. “Scream.”

 

As one, they turned towards the nemeton, threaded their fingers together, and lifted their outer arms up to encompass the group.

 

They screamed.

 

Everyone in the clearing dropped to the ground as a wall of energy blasted through the place. It kept going long after they were down. Long after the banshee and spark had stopped. Lightning lit up the sky as waves of rolling thunder boomed and echoed overhead. The wind picked up and started swirling in dozens of tiny whirlwinds, but there was no rain. This wasn’t a normal storm.

 

Peter could hear groaning coming from all around. He could see the others trying to push themselves to their feet. He felt tapped of energy, but he put every ounce of effort he had into getting up.

 

“Don’t do this, Stiles,” he heard Scott warn the young spark. Honestly, that boy would never learn.

 

Stiles turned his head to take in the alpha, and something about his expression told Peter that not everything was as it should be in the young man’s head.

 

“We have to stop it.” Scott continued. “She’s going to bring evil here. She’s got magic but it’s too much. If we give her to the nemeton, Deaton can turn off the beacon. There won’t be any more monsters here. Stiles, we have to stop it.”

 

“Oh my god, it was you.” Stiles looked at Marin and Deaton with sudden clarity. “You freed the nogitsune, you tore out the new tree.”

 

Deaton was barely able to get his shoulders off the ground, and Marin hadn’t been able to move at all.

 

“It was the right thing to do,” the druid told him. “The nogitsune was poisoning the nemeton and it had to be removed for everyone’s safety. It had to be stopped. And I knew Scott could stop it. Only a true alpha could.”

 

Stiles shouted at that, “We would have found a safer way!”

 

But Peter, finally standing again sent a scathing snort back at the man on the ground. “There is no such thing as a true alpha, and you know it.” He ignored Scott’s confused expression and addressed the man again. “And what about the nemeton itself. It was healing, until someone ripped out the new growth. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

 

“I had to. To keep the balance, I had to keep it contained.” Deaton always sounded so convincing when he talked, but it was tainted with snake oil for anyone with half a brain. “There was no way to tell who was healing it. We had to be cautious. If the source is tainted, then the nemeton would only bring evil.”

 

Peter didn’t think he could walk just yet, but he wanted so badly to run that man through on his claws. “Lies.” He spat out. “Life doesn’t grow from corruption. Its why nothing had healed it yet. How long have you been walking the dark path, Deaton?”

 

The druid had nothing to say to that. “Or here’s a better question, why did our wards fail the night of the fire? Why did you not come to help us?”

 

He didn’t want to do this in front of Derek, but the time had come anyway. He would have this out here and now, and then be done with it. He would help Derek recover later if need be.

 

“Do you know what it feels like to have almost everyone you love burn to death around you?” He asked in a detached, yet menacing tone. “Do you know what happens when a wolf, so used to healing, has flames consuming their bodies? Do you know how long it takes for them to die? I listened to all of it. I heard every scream, every cry for help. Even my own. Even Talia’s.

 

“She was the first one to go. Did you know that? My sister was trying to protect us, to keep us safe. And she burned to death still trying. Where do you suppose the alpha power went after that? Because it wasn’t to Laura. Not yet.” He could hear Derek’s breath catch on the mention of his sister. He felt a twinge of remorse but pushed on.

 

“No. It came to me. My leg was already covered in fire. But that alpha power flooded my body so fast that my skin healed immediately, only to burn again. I had enough strength to pry the bars apart. I knew the rest of us weren’t getting out of there. But I could save one of them, the smallest one. Cora fit through the bars, but not the mountain ash.”

 

Derek was crying now. Peter could smell the tears, but he wasn’t done yet. “I could feel the power being tugged away. And I knew there was nothing natural about it. But before it could be stolen entirely, I had enough left to break the line, and save my niece. I don’t believe in God, druid, but I thank him every day that the people responsible for killing my family weren’t waiting outside for her; that she got away.”

 

Deaton was still silent on the ground, and Peter ignored Scott’s belligerent shout about how Peter was a murderer too. He wasn’t wasting another breath on that boy. His focus was on the darach in front of him.

 

“Tell me you didn’t help my deranged niece and her hunter friend murder my family,” he spat at the man, daring him to contradict what he already knew was the truth. “Tell me I didn’t miss one of the guilty parties when I took my revenge six years later.”

 

There was silence in the clearing before he roared out, “ _TELL ME_!”

 

“I can bring her back!” Deaton shouted, fear in his voice at Peter’s wrath. “Derek? Derek! I can bring her back!”

 

Derek couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew it was the truth. Laura may have been Talia's oldest child, but Peter was her brother. Peter had felt the alpha power come into him and get ripped out while he was still alive. Still conscious. And Derek knew his sister well enough, remembered her anger at their mother for the way she ran the family enough, that he knew she was capable of it.

 

Even if he didn’t want to believe it he knew it was the truth.

 

He didn’t respond to Deaton as the man cried out his plan to resurrect Laura from the nemeton. All he needed was the sacrifice of one more spark. Just one more, and it would be done.

 

Stiles was disgusted by the whole thing, but he felt a slipping sensation take over his body suddenly. He turned back to Mark on the ground and realized the feeling was coming from the older spark.

 

“No, no, no, no,” he mumbled as he rushed back over to push on the man’s chest. He called his spark to his hands and pushed down, trying to keep him inside his body. But it slid away. He tried again, screaming frantically. But no matter what he did, it wouldn’t work.

 

He heard Peter calling for him, begging him to come to him. But he had to try. He couldn’t just leave Mark to die. Not here. Not when they won.

 

The sliding feeling was pulling at him, though. And somewhere in the desperation to save Mark, Stiles understood it was pulling him down instead.

 

And suddenly, as soon as he felt Mark die, a whiteness took over his vision. The energy from the nemeton and the land beneath it didn’t give him a choice. They just flowed into him with such an overwhelming amount of energy that he blacked out almost immediately.

 

“Stiles,” Peter called for him. “Stiles, come back. I need you to come over here.”

 

He was beyond terrified, still frozen in place as he watched Stiles throw his head back, body contorting until it was hovering above the ground, arms out to his sides. And he knew in that moment, Stiles wasn’t in control anymore.

 

He watched as the boys feet, now bare, touched back to the ground. Stiles stalked slowly across the clearing until he stood over Scott.

 

“The bite is a gift, young wolf,” he murmured down. And if Peter didn’t know Stiles had checked out before, the grating, otherworldly sound of that voice would be convincing enough. “You were never worthy of it.”

 

With a flash of electricity over the clearing, Stiles turned his face upwards. Peter could see the bright glow of white light taking over the spark’s eyes, looking for all the world like contained lightning.

 

The wind had died down before, but a creeping mist was closing in on the nemeton from all sides. It doused the flames as it passed over them, and trailed over the bodies on the ground until Peter could barely make them out.

 

Silence settled over the ground again before Stiles, or whatever was inside of him broke it.

 

“We have born witness to all in this territory. We keep the balance. That is our right.”

 

The rest of the Hale pack except for the fallen were released by whatever had been holding them in place. Peter watched as they rose through the mist, but they stayed where the were, chilled by the ancient sounding voice coming out of Stiles.

 

“You have been judged.” The thunder rolled again, an ominous sound to match the angry, disappointed tone on the young spark. “You have been found wanting.” He turned to look at his feet, and even though they couldn’t see through the blanket of mist to the bodies on the ground. Peter knew he was looking at Scott. “The Hale spark is no longer safe with you. The wolf is not wanted by your heart. The power is too great for all here. We will take it back.”

 

An ear-piercing cacophony of screams tore out all around them. It was enough that Peter felt his eardrums pounding in pain.

 

The wind was picking up again, and Stiles turned to face a different area. “Darach. Your crimes are revealed to all beings gifted with sight. You have stolen what was not yours to take. You have betrayed your oaths. We seek repayment now.”

 

The Hale pack watched as the whirlwinds came back, almost sentient in their movement. They lifted Deaton from the ground and threw him across the clearing to the tree stump.

 

As the wind shifted and twirled, the mist dissipated, and Peter noticed the bodies on the ground were unconscious. The ones alive before the mist rolled in hadn’t been killed, but Peter could tell they weren’t _other_ anymore. The only thing on the ground after whatever Stiles had done was human.

 

Peter knew about a spark’s power. And he knew the nemeton was most likely the one in charge at the moment, but he’d never heard it recorded in any book, anywhere about something being able to rip the wolves, the magic out of supernatural beings.

 

It wasn’t possible. And yet, that was exactly what happened there.

 

Deaton began screaming again as the wind centered itself around the tree. There was no way to see through the dust and leaves kicked up in the giant whirlwind.

 

None of them had been close to a tornado before. And if it weren’t for the fact that the rest of the clearing was deadly still, they would have imagined it looked a lot like what they were seeing now.

 

By the time it was over, standing in place of the tree stump was a massive oak tree. Ancient looking with giant, heavy branches twisting down to the earth and back up towards the sky, as though it had been there all along. It was beautiful.

 

And Deaton was nowhere to be found. It’s hard to imagine exactly how a tree might ‘eat’ a person, but Peter figured if it could be done, it’s probably what just happened.

 

Maisy, though was still there. Peter tried to move forward towards her, but he was still locked in place. Stiles looked unharmed as he reached down to scoop up the little girl. Peter felt a pluck of fear shutter down his spine as he saw Stiles’ eyes were still glowing silver.

 

He turned back around and slowly carried Maisy towards Peter, stepping neatly over and around the unconscious forms littering the space. While it was very evident that the nemeton was still in control, Peter watched in horror as a thick stream of blood began to flow from the boy’s nose. It traveled down past his lips and began dripping from his chin.

 

There was too much blood. And Stiles, or the nemeton rather, didn’t seem to be concerned by it at all.

 

He hefted the tiny girl up and away from his body effortlessly, and held her out towards Peter. With a sudden snap, Peter felt as his autonomy returned. He immediately held his arms out for the child, cradling her close to his chest as Stiles dropped his arms back to his sides.

 

The warmth he felt spreading inside him had nothing to do with Maisy’s safety, and the force of it nearly dropped him to his knees. He held his ground though, and kept his gaze on the glowing brightness of Stiles’ eyes as the familiar alpha power rushed into his body.

 

Looking down at his charge, he could see that the injury from the dagger had been erased. She had blood everywhere, but she was healed.

 

His elation took a back seat though, as he turned his face back up to the boy in front of him. It still wasn’t Stiles. Whatever the nemeton had done to take over wasn’t finished yet. And with a small stitch in his heart, he remembered Mark telling them that the nemeton had chosen the spark. That it wanted to keep him.

 

He was frozen in abject terror at the barest thought that the tree was somehow claiming the young man for itself. That Stiles wouldn’t be returning to them.

 

With the same wraithlike voice, Stiles finally spoke to him. “We could only save one. They wished for her to live.”

 

Keeping his grip tight on Maisy, who had yet to wake up, Peter screamed out in denial as the glow in Stiles eyes dimmed and the spark dropped boneless to the ground, like all the strings keeping him upright had suddenly been cut.

 

Noah and Derek rushed forward. They were too late to catch Stiles’ body as it crumpled to the ground, but they threw themselves down after it.

 

“I can’t feel a pulse,” Noah shouted out in desperation. “Peter, I can’t feel it!” He began preparing for CPR and talking to Stiles as though that would keep him there with them. “Oh son, stay with me. Come on, Stiles, stay with me. You’ve got this. Come on, Stiles.”

 

“Derek,” Peter whispered over to his nephew. He could barely speak through the pain. They had lost Mark, Jessie wasn’t far behind and Peter could feel her slipping. And Stiles. He couldn’t feel Stiles.

 

He wanted to rip everything around him down. Burn it all to the ground if it would help Stiles come back.

 

He wanted to curl into the body on the ground. His anchor. How could a wolf survive without their anchor?

 

Peter knew the answer to that question. It was unthinkable. It was not acceptable. But he’d been here before.

 

Just like back then, there was nothing his wolf had to offer that could possibly make this okay. He couldn’t turn a spark with a bite anymore than he could break every line of mountain ash trapping his family in their tomb.

 

“Derek,” he called again. He’d already started CPR, but he shot a wild-eyed, panicked look up at Peter. “Hospital.” If there were tears coming down his face, and if his voice couldn’t get a word out any other way than a sob, no one had anything to say about it. They were the same anyway.

 

Lydia and Jordan were back from whatever fire armor they’d both been under. Peter watched as the banshee took a few hesitant steps closer to her friend, her brother, before stopping in place. She had tears of her own silently falling down her cheeks.

 

Silently.

 

Lydia was a banshee. She heralded in the deaths of loved ones with a scream. And she was silent.

 

“Derek,” Peter called out, a little more forcefully. “Get him to the hospital. Now.” He still had Maisy in his arms and waited just long enough to see the younger wolf pick up Stiles’ body, before turning and running for the SUV.

 

He cradled Maisy’s head into his shoulder as he ran, keeping from jostling her too much. But her heartbeat and breathing was steady. Her wound had healed, she was just unconscious.

 

He passed Jordan picking up the badly damaged Jessie. And the two wolves and deputy rushed to get their passengers into the SUV. He settled Maisy in Lydia’s arms when she caught up and climbed in, and pushed Noah into the driver’s seat, closing the doors behind them.

 

The rest of the pack was either focused on the injured or the drive enough to not notice that Peter wasn’t going with them.

 

He watched the taillights speed away, dust kicking up in their wake, before turning back to the clearing and letting out a moan of despair.

 

 _He could do this_ , he told himself, even as the pain washed over him and dropped him onto the ground like a physical blow. _He could do this. In a minute. Just a minute._

 

He didn’t know how long he stayed hunched over in the dirt. But his face was wet, and his throat burned when he came back to himself. In a haze of grief, he looked across the field to where Mark’s body was still laying, and pushed to his feet.

 

He could do this. He could see to his fallen pack mate. He could bury his dead. But the one thing he knew he couldn’t do in that moment was be anywhere near the hospital. He knew he had survived this kind of loss before, but at what cost?

 

If there was even the slightest possibility that he would be standing there, watching as Stiles’ skin faded into a dull gray pallor, he knew that the wolf who walked out of that building would be beyond saving. As it was, he was hanging onto his humanity by the skin of his teeth. The only other option was going feral. And that madness was calling out to him. Tempting him.

 

There were so many bodies on the ground. The witches. The children who’d played at being wolves. They were sleeping now, but he could finish this. He could kill them all. Punish them for taking his new family the same way he punished the others before.

 

It was movement from the corner of his vision that had him flashing his red eyes and snarling into his beta shift for the first time since he felt the alpha power return to him.

 

Malia. She was standing a few feet away, far enough to jump back incase he attacked. But she held her hands in front of her and asked softly, “Let me help?”

 

Peter took a couple moments before dipping his head in acceptance. Letting go of the rage and bending down to lift Mark from the ground.

 

She flashed her eyes in gratitude and some part of him, buried deep but still there, was relieved her coyote hadn’t been taken during the mist. He spared it a thought just long enough to understand that the nemeton hadn’t viewed her as an enemy.

 

As he started to walk, he was distantly aware of Malia calling into the police. Letting them know there’d been an attack in the preserve, the sheriff’s son was hurt, and there were at least a dozen bodies on the ground.

 

She hung up when they tried to get her contact information.

 

He couldn’t be with Stiles. There was always the possibility that if Lydia didn’t scream, things could be okay. But Stiles didn’t have a heartbeat when the SUV left. He knew he would hear Lydia no matter where in Beacon Hills he was, and it was almost more than he could stand to wait on a knifes-edge for what he thought was the inevitable.

 

But it was better than being at the hospital. There was absolutely no way he could function if he had to hear some doctor or nurse tell him there was nothing they could do.

 

He was always the pragmatist, never the optimist. And Stiles’ heart wasn’t beating. He couldn’t be there. He couldn’t live through that.

 

But he could see to the burial rituals for Mark. He could carry the man’s body through the preserve and take him to the Hale family plot. He could dig the grave and place the body inside. He could do that much, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so.... I don't know what to say besides, there's a reason for everything. And hopefully that will keep anyone from coming after me with pitchforks as I finish typing up the last chapter. 
> 
> It's almost here. Just hang on for a little longer. It'll be good, I promise.


	9. Chapter 9

“Did you drive here?” Peter asked Malia after placing the last stone over the grave. He looked around at the rest of the plot and then at the surrounding area. The grass and weeds were overtaking the cemetery; he would need to do something about that soon. It might actually be a good idea to looking at rebuilding on the land anyway.

 

Nothing too crazy. Peter liked the safety of the penthouse and the apartments below. He’d hired a security company for the building before he’d moved in. And thorough background checks on all of the guards led him to feel comfortable enough stating the building was protected from a surprise attack.

 

But maybe a smaller cottage, something closer to the lake then the old pack house used to be. They could use it for getaways, maybe celebrate the summer holidays on the water.

 

He was lost in thought, anything to help distract him from the reality of his pack in the hospital. From Stiles.

 

Lydia still hadn’t screamed.

 

Malia’s voice brought him back to the here and now quickly, though. “No, I don’t have a car. I can always run back though. Don’t know where I’m sleeping yet, but it’s not like it’s the first night I spent in the woods.”

 

And if that wasn’t a distraction, Peter didn’t know what was.

 

He wondered if she would be offended at him buying a car. Maybe that was overstepping. But the last part caught his attention. “You don’t need to sleep in the woods, Malia. Unless… Unless you want to.” He thought back to how long she’d been in coyote form; longer than he’d been in a coma. Maybe she felt more relaxed being in the preserve than she did in a bed. “Do you have a den out here?” He asked.

 

“I do,” she said around a small smile. “Well, I used to. Scott didn’t think I should go back there. He said it might confuse me. Make me forget to stay human.”

 

Peter tried to keep the revulsion for the former alpha from coming through. He wasn’t successful. “You should throw out whatever he told you. He had no idea how to be a wolf, and no business trying to teach anyone else.”

 

She nodded back, and Peter was happy to see there was no fight in her on the subject. He really didn’t know what his reaction would’ve been. “Do you want to see it?” She asked.

 

He sent a smile over to her at the shyness in her tone. She had a sense of pride about her, an independence. And from their admittedly few interactions, he assumed she had no problem speaking her mind. But he could tell this new aspect of the girl was rooted in a desire for acceptance; for approval.

 

She was so much like Derek, that Peter mourned the past his nephew had suffered. But he was coming back to himself, little by little. It might be good for them to spend some time together.

 

“I would love to,” he told her sincerely.

 

As he followed her away from the graves, deeper into the forest, his mind had time to wander again, and held onto one beacon of hope: Lydia still hadn’t screamed.

 

“Well, this is… This is nice.” Peter tried to put as much encouragement into his voice as possible as Malia led him into the cave. It stank, god did it stink. But it meant that she had marked it as her own. It kept the other predators away. Clever girl. “It’s roomy, and you kept it clean. Plenty of ventilation, good places for sunlight, I’d imagine.” He walked through the area, impressed with what a young girl, not even a teenager yet had been able to pull together on her own. But he could offer her more if she didn’t have it. He could offer her a bed for the night at least.

 

“I like it,” he told her, happy to see her smile when there was no lie in his words. “But you’re not sleeping here.”

 

Malia looked mildly affronted at that. She’d already crawled onto a shelf that Peter could tell was used for sleeping in the past. She drew her knees up to her chest and looked across at him every bit as much a child as he’d always imagined she would. If they’d had the time anyway. If Talia hadn’t taken his memories of her.

 

“I don’t…” She started. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

 

He narrowed his eyes, trying to sort out the motive for her apprehension. “Are things not going well at home?”

 

She shrugged back indifferently. “Sort of. I mean, it’s fine. I was gone for so long, and my dad… He’s trying to act normal, like things are how they used to be. But I don’t think he’s happy about the coyote thing. I think sometimes… sometimes I think he’s afraid of me.” She looked up suddenly, like she’d just realized she was talking to someone else out loud. “It’s fine though. He’ll be okay. Seriously, it’s not that bad.”

 

“Malia,” Peter softly got her attention. “Do you want to sleep out here tonight?”

 

She nodded back silently, and Peter looked around at the rest of the space. It wasn’t the most secure, but the walls echoed sounds, and the gaps let plenty of scent through. If there was a disturbance, he was sure they’d notice.

 

“Okay. Do you want to sleep human or as a coyote?” He’d been through enough growing up to know that sometimes, some emotions were better worked through as a wolf. His own transformation took on a nightmare appearance after he woke up from the coma, but it hadn’t always been that way.

 

He and Talia had spent their younger years running on four legs almost as much as two. He hadn’t been able to fully shift since he came back, but he had a feeling that were he to try now, it would go very differently than his last time as an alpha.

 

Malia looked shocked at the suggestion. “Scott said…” She didn’t get any further when a low growl of displeasure came from Peter. “Would you be able to bring me back?” She asked around a tendril of fear. “I know you want me to ignore what he said, but he told me that I couldn’t shift back. And I tried for months. I couldn’t do it.”

 

“Do you feel like you could do it now?” Peter had a feeling he knew why she’d struggled with the shift before. There were only a few things that could block a shifter’s full abilities. But he wanted to test that before coming to conclusions. He got another slow nod from Malia. “Okay, why don’t you give it a try.”

 

“But you’ll stay with me? You won’t leave me here?” She asked. She was trying to be strong, to be an adult. But in many ways, she’d been denied a childhood. She hadn’t lived around humans since she was a child, and trust was going to be a struggle for her.

 

Peter relaxed on a slope of smooth stone, getting comfortable and trying to show that he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll stay here while you sleep, and help you come back when you wake up. But something tells me you won’t need it.”

 

Malia hopped down from the shelf and within less than a minute, Peter had a beautiful, young coyote standing in front of him. She was incredible. His daughter.

 

She stepped closer, nudging her snout against his knee before backing away and grabbing her clothes between her jaws. She carried them with her as she jumped up to her sleeping area again and settled down.

 

Peter waited for her to look back over before he smiled and whispered a quiet, “Get some sleep. We can talk when you wake up.”

 

He turned his gaze back up to the gaps in the wall and looked at the stars. The moon was well behind them now, but it still lit up the tops of the trees he could see. He pulled out his phone and saw missed calls from Derek and Jordan.

 

And three texts from Derek. They were simple, but they let him breathe easy for the first time that night.

 

**[They started his heart]**

**[He’s in the ICU now. He’ll be out for a while]**

**[Jessie’s in surgery. Maisy’s fine]**

Peter loved his nephew, and what he loved most was the understanding that came with a long history together. Derek didn’t ask where he was. He didn’t ask if Peter was coming to the hospital. He knew the answer to those questions already.

 

Peter stayed where he was, resting but awake for hours. Malia woke just as dawn was coming and the air became a touch colder. The very first thing she did was look over at Peter, almost like she’d expected him to disappear.

 

After stretching her limbs out, moving more untroubled than before, she came to stand in front of him and tilted her head up in question, like she was asking permission.

 

“You’re a coyote, Malia,” he told her with a gentle tone. She needed acceptance right then, not force. “But you’re also human. You already know how to shift. If you want to be human, you can do that. If not, you can stay as you are.”

 

She took a few steps back, lowering her head and letting out a full body shake. It took a moment, but she switched back to human as fluidly as she’d taken to the coyote form. Peter saw an angry sort of confusion on her face as she reached up for her clothes and dragged them on.

 

“Why could I do that with you?” She asked. “Is it because you’re my father?”

 

Peter sighed and stood up, “No. Not at all. Shifting is… Well, a full shift is rare. It’s a Hale family trait, yes. But proximity to another Hale doesn’t increase or detract from your abilities. You own that, no one else. As an alpha, I _could_ force you. But that’s a line most of us would never cross.”

 

He watched her take in the information, kick it around inside of her head, and come to the same conclusion he’d reached earlier.

 

“Scott forced me out of my shift,” She told him. “When he found me in the preserve. He roared at me, and I turned human again.”

 

He nodded back. He didn’t tell her that the alpha command that knocked her out of the shift was very likely what prevented her from reverting back. He didn’t have to.

 

She would deal with that, and how she felt now that she understood the control she’d been under, in her own time. If she wanted to talk about it, he’d be there. But he knew the experience would leave a mark on her, and it wouldn’t be doing her any favors in the trust department.

 

It would take time. But she had that now, they all did.

 

The feeling in the preserve had changed that night. Peter had been awake through all of it. The nemeton was settled. It had healed and regrown itself back to its former glory. He had a feeling that taking the power from so many supernatural creatures at one time had something to do with that.

 

But the energy was different than he’d felt in a long while. It was cleaner, stronger. The forest didn’t feel so unsettled anymore. And maybe it was because the nemeton had returned the alpha power to him specifically, but Peter felt _known_ by the land. He couldn’t really describe it, but it felt like the territory had become stable, that it was giving him an underlying sense of protection whenever he thought about his pack. It felt safe.

 

He led Malia back through the preserve in a light jog. They ran through the trees, then onto the concrete road, and through the town until they reached his building.

 

Jordan was there when the elevator doors opened. He spared a glance at Malia before giving her a nod and meeting Peter in a hug. “We were worried.”

 

“I’m fine,” Peter assured him with a tight squeeze before letting him go. “We buried Mark, then decided to stay in the preserve for the night.”

 

“Did you see the clearing?” Jordan asked, and continued at Peter’s confused head shake. “The whole place is a crime scene. They marked it off and set up camp to figure out what happened down there. They called me in to help with the arrests, it’s why I’m back. Had to get my uniform.”

 

Peter noticed belatedly that Jordan was wearing scrubs from the hospital. Having one’s clothes burn off around them was a definite downside to Jordan’s abilities.

 

“They arrested the coven, and the other pack.” Peter’s lip curled around the mention of the other pack, but Jordan didn’t notice. “They’re still out there processing the scene. I talked to some of the deputies when they came to interview Noah at the hospital, and they’re… They’re asking about Mark.”

 

Jordan ducked his head at that. Mark had been important to them, even after such a short time. Losing him was not easy on Peter’s wolf. But he had found a small measure of relief from the burial. He had no intention of letting them dig him back up, and he told Jordan as much.

 

“I know, I wouldn’t ask that.” Jordan quickly promised him. “But it might be easier to say he wasn’t there. If they think the coven took him before, he could be listed as a missing person.”

 

Peter didn’t feel good that they were talking about the man’s death so soon afterwards. But he understood that real world police investigations didn’t just sweep things under the rug. They would need to explain Mark’s whereabouts.

 

It was the safe thing to do for the pack, what Jordan was proposing. After it was over, no one could stop them from remembering Mark in their own way. They could visit the grave and honor his sacrifice. It was pack business.

 

He saw Jordan off with a coffee and breakfast, which he also made for Malia and himself. But he made quite a bit more too. When they were done eating, they packed up the meal in containers and loaded them in bags to take to the Lydia, Derek, and Noah.

 

Peter was grateful they had stayed at the hospital, guarding over the injured pack through the night, and had given him the time to himself to recover from the loss.

 

Derek pulled him aside when they arrived, letting him know that he’d explained what an alpha goes through during a pack mate’s death, and what losing Stiles would have done to him.

 

In a way, it was the moments right after loss that made an alpha the weakest they would ever be. Their bodies were designed to be stronger, but the shock to the system could cripple them.

 

Peter sat in Stiles’ room for hours that first day. Watching the boy sleep, not bothering to move out of the way when the nurses came in to check vitals. He’d told the rest of them to head home, get some rest, and was happy when they took Malia with them.

 

They’d accepted her into their comings and goings easily, with Lydia taking the girl’s hand and encouraging her to head out with them. He knew he’d need to have a longer talk with her at some point regarding her home, but considering her adoptive father had put her in Eichen shortly after she’d come back, he didn’t see it being a difficult discussion.

 

It wasn’t until Jordan came in several hours later that Peter stepped out of the room. He had the deputy lead him to Jessie’s room and stood beside her for a long while.

 

There was a plastic barrier around her bed and though he couldn’t touch her, he could see her just fine. The damage was immense. They’d managed to revive her body in surgery, but Peter had felt her slip before the SUV had driven off the night before. She never made it out of the clearing. Not really. He reached over and held a hand up to the plastic. He couldn’t feel anything.

 

Besides the lacerations to her torso and face, internal wounds from the knife, and what appeared to the doctors to be damage caused by an impact from a massive object, she had burns from the energy blast across her appendages.

 

The machines were the only thing keeping her breathing while her body recovered, but Peter already knew she wouldn’t be waking up. Jessie had died with Mark. They’d sacrificed themselves to save their daughter. It was offered willingly, and the nemeton had accepted. It had told Peter as much when it spoke to him from inside of Stiles.

 

It might be incredibly selfish, and he felt a twist of guilt at the thought, but Peter was thankful it hadn’t taken Stiles too.

 

He didn’t go home that day, or that night. Noah had already spoken to the hospital staff and let them know Stiles would never be without a visitor. That was perfectly fine while he was in ICU, there were no restrictions on visitation there. But after the first few days, when they moved him into a private room, the nurses had tried to impose limitations on the hours.

 

Noah politely told them that wasn’t going to happen. Well, _polite_ might have been an exaggeration.

 

After the first full week of Stiles remaining unconscious, the doctors pulled Noah aside and explained that they weren’t keeping him sedated. He should have woken up by now. None of their scans or tests had shown anything outside of normal ranges. They couldn’t explain it.

 

But Peter could _feel_ him when he’d sit at his bedside. In a way that he couldn’t when he saw Jessie. Sometimes, Stiles was more present, for lack of a better word, than others. But Peter assured Noah and the rest of the pack that he was definitely there.

 

Occasionally, Peter would overhear a nurse or patient outside of Stiles’ room lament how tragic it was that a former coma patient had to come visit another family member stuck in his own coma. He payed it no mind, but Beacon Hills wasn’t a big town. And they might not know exactly how the Hales and the Stilinskis were connected, but gossip around town spread that they were.

 

Being the alpha meant he could function on a lot less sleep, but Peter had a whole pack to look after. He stayed with Stiles most of the day, but he switched off with someone else most evenings.

 

The first weekend came and went, and Monday saw him welcoming Leon’s crew into the penthouse to start work bright and early.

 

The man wasn’t pack, but Peter was struck by his sincere concern for Stiles’ wellbeing. Leon was respectful about it, shaking both his and Noah’s hands and letting them know his whole family was praying for Stiles to pull through.

 

It was well-received.

 

He met little Maisy when he first got there too, and Peter let the men in the crew know that Maisy was going to be joining them that day. Leon looked perturbed for a moment before he threw some truck keys over to one of his men and instructed him to head back to the office for a smaller hardhat for the girl.

 

Peter rolled his eyes, but appreciated the man’s dedication to safety.

 

Maisy had been Peter’s shadow whenever he was in the apartment. Her speech was limited, mainly because she was three, but she had no problem letting the others know what she wanted. And when Peter was home, she wanted him.

 

Children had a resiliency about them that Peter admired. He observed the moments of sadness when Maisy remembered her parents weren’t there, but her brain had a way of compartmentalizing that amazed him. She lived very much in the present.

 

And that present just introduced a whole slew of new people with the pack, though she was already comfortable in their presence, and Leon’s crew. She was intrigued with them and their constant movement as they got to work setting up equipment and marking off areas for construction.

 

Peter smiled when he noticed that even though she was being held in his arms (she fussed whenever he tried to set her down), she was captivated with Leon in particular.

 

Human as the man was, he still had a way of moving about the space and directing his men with the calm authority of any alpha Peter had ever known. He admired that trait, and it seemed like Maisy was drawn to it as well.

 

Derek snorted when he came back from the hospital that day to see both Peter and Maisy in hardhats, watching from a fair distance away as two men took sledgehammers to the wall that used to be Noah’s room.

 

He snapped a picture with his phone and sent off a text to the rest of the pack before Peter even noticed he was watching them.

 

When Maisy saw the younger wolf she let out a happy, “Derek!” and wiggled in Peter’s arms. He let her down, amused when she went running over to greet him. If there was anyone she favored over Peter, it was Derek. Well, sometimes. But it was a good distraction for her, and it let Peter get started on putting lunch together for the crew.

 

“Are you headed back to the hospital later?” Derek asked, setting Maisy down in front of the coffee table and pulling out a set of jumbo crayons and a coloring book. He knew the answer to the question, of course Peter was going back.

 

“Noah’s with him now,” Peter answered from the other room. “He deserves some time alone with his son, but I’ll bring some dinner for him a bit later.”

 

They got into a routine for that first week. Peter and Maisy stayed in the penthouse during the day, watching the work being done. But Derek took over to get her settled in for nap time shortly after lunch down in his apartment where it was quieter.

 

Lydia and Malia went to school and came back later than usual more days than not, carrying bags of shopping for Maisy. She had plenty of toys and clothes from her house that they were able to gather, but the girls seemed to like the idea of buying her presents.

 

After the first full week of Malia staying in the penthouse, Peter took her out to the patio after dinner and asked what she was going to tell he adoptive father. “He hasn’t called me. I’ve been gone for a week, and he hasn’t even texted to ask where I am.”

 

Peter nodded and sat with her for a while, letting her breathe in the open air and staying close. She wasn’t as tactile as the others and he respected her limits, but he stayed on the outdoor couch with her, offering his presence if she wanted it.

 

Being a father was new to him. But in a way, it was very similar to being the alpha of a pack. It was his job, his duty to provide for them. To ensure their safety and happiness. Perhaps being an alpha gave him a leg up on the whole concept, but Peter wanted Malia close. He’d like it if she moved in permanently, but it would need to be handled delicately.

 

Malia’s adoptive father was still her custodial guardian. If he made a big deal of it, Peter could be seen as harboring a minor. It was a misdemeanor, sure, but they didn’t need that kind of attention. Although, based on the information from Malia, it wasn’t likely he was invested enough to go that route.

 

He asked Noah to quietly look into what kind of paperwork would be needed to petition a court for custody of Malia, considering he was never aware of her birth or adoption in the first place.

 

When Jordan came home one night mentioning CPS asking questions about Maisy, Peter reacted strongly, “Noah, I don’t care if we have to forge papers that have me listed as an approved foster parent, she’s not leaving this pack.”

 

His refusal to let Maisy leave for even one night had Noah in front of a judge requesting the girl continue to remain with them while adoption papers could be settled. He didn’t want to forge foster approval if he didn’t have to, and he had somewhat of an ‘in’ with the court anyway.

 

The judge was sympathetic to the situation. He was a family court judge, but in a town a small as Beacon Hills, all the judges knew each other well.

 

Word had spread that Noah had already made an appearance in the criminal court that week. He’d requested a private audience with the DA and asked that the high school students found in the preserve be tried in juvenile court rather than face charges as adults.

 

The DA had been very familiar with the case, as it wasn’t everyday that a devil worshiping cult moved to town and targeted a young family on top of the County sheriff’s teenaged son. It wasn’t an easy task, to ask for leniency. And the DA was not inclined to give it. The teenagers who’d been caught up in it had no prior records, but the crimes were atrocious just the same. Kidnapping, as well as aggravated assault and battery were serious enough charges. But the fact that one of the victims was only three raised the public outcry at the acts.

 

The DA was well within his limitations to charge every teenager in that clearing as an adult. But he took the meeting with the sheriff and eventually agreed there was a possibility that they weren’t fully aware of the cult’s intentions. That it was possible the group of kids just got caught up in the excitement of something new in town.

 

Noah eventually got the man to agree with moving the teens to the juvenile courts. He also agreed to put in a word for Maisy’s placement in Peter Hale’s home with the family court judge. And considering the sheriff lived one floor below, and that the Hales were close family friends, it was stamped and sealed within forty-eight hours.

 

The charges against the former McCall pack, though… Well, Noah only went as far as requesting a juvenile hearing. Whether they pled out, or not… whether they were given probation or taken to a detention center, he would leave that entirely up to the courts to decide.

 

He hadn’t been asked to prepare for witness testimony beyond the lengthy statement he’d already given his deputies, so he assumed none of them were trying for a ‘not guilty’ defense. Not yet at least.

 

He laughed at Peter’s expression when he told him there would need to be a home visit scheduled. He wasn’t thrilled. But Peter worked with Leon and set up a longer lunch for the crew on one of the days later in the first week.

 

The social worker they sent was a young girl, barely into her twenties. He made sure the rest of the pack were present for the meeting, with the exception of Malia and Lydia, since they were all going to be living in the home that Maisy was moving in to.

 

They talked about the construction, and how Maisy was able to be kept at a safe distance from it by having her room set up in the apartment below.

 

Mark and Jessie had already moved Maisy’s things into one of the guest rooms in the Stilinski apartment before they’d gotten her back from the coven anyway, so it wasn’t that hard to finish decorating the space with all the fittings that a three-year-old could want.

 

The young woman toured the entire place, bemused when Peter insisted she wear a hardhat around the construction areas, just in case. Maisy had enthusiastically shown the woman her own tiny hat after demanding Peter pick her up. The alpha held the little girl as she talked in the slurred words of a toddler, faster than the woman could make out sometimes. But it was clear that she had a bond with Peter, and felt safe around him. The man could be charming when he wanted to be, and Noah was entertained when he saw Derek joining in.

 

Both of the Hales were absolutely aware of their appeal, and they were using every bit of their charisma on the social worker. It was effective.

 

There was a glimmer of awe and a little envy when she took in the sheer size of the home now that the lower floor was being included in the penthouse. And she was happy to see the pool area would have a child-proof gate blocking it off from the rest of the patio once construction was complete.

 

All in all, the home visit was a success, and the woman saw no reason to put a hold on the paperwork. Maisy had no extended family to come looking for her, and she was adopted into the pack without resistance.

 

* * *

 

When the visits to Stiles went into week two, the pack each developed a little more tightness around the eyes. Stiles’ vitals were still excellent, he just wasn’t waking up.

 

Peter knew it was the nemeton. He’d seen how close contact had affected the spark before, the deep trance. But the tree had taken over Stiles’ body in that clearing. However deep he’d been before, this was infinitely more submerged.

 

He took to having one-sided conversations during his visits, hoping his voice would encourage Stiles to come closer to the surface, to come back up. He felt a little more activity from the boy when he did that, almost like there was a thread of awareness and interest at his words, but Stiles never woke up.

 

At the end of the second week of Stiles’ coma, Maisy was becoming restless in the apartment. They’d taken her to the park, walked around the shops main street, but she had so much energy it was wreaking havoc on nap time. And a few temper tantrums had been witnessed.

 

It was Jordan who suggested the nemeton. The investigation had finished up in the clearing, and the tape was all down. “She’s a spark, right? Maybe she needs to release the energy like Stiles did.”

 

Peter was wary of taking her back to the ‘scene of the crime’ but without another outlet, the nemeton might be the best option.

 

Lydia stayed with Stiles, which meant Jordan stayed with Stiles that Saturday, while the rest of them took Maisy out into the woods. Derek was on edge as they made their way through the trees, further from the path and their vehicles. Noah wasn’t unaffected either, keeping one hand close to his service weapon.

 

But Peter was focused on Maisy. She was thrumming with excitement. There was no fear, even if she did recognize the surroundings, and it was like trying to hold a squirming cat. He finally set her down a few feet from the tree, amazed at her dexterity as she grabbed onto the bark and climbed up to the one of the low branches jutting out from the side of the tree, only about four feet from the ground.

 

The branch was curved and dipped low, creating a wide cradle for her little body to curl up in. Almost immediately, Peter noticed her eyes hood the same way Stiles’ did in meditation. He was impressed with her ability, but then, if Mark had been working with her, she was probably familiar with the activity.

 

Still, he prayed with everything he had that the nemeton didn’t take too much of a liking to her as well. He stayed close to where she was resting, partly to prevent her from falling just in case, and partly to place his own hands on the nemeton.

 

He thanked it for the assistance first. And tried to push as much gratitude as possible through his hands at the return of the alpha power. But then he begged. He wasn’t too proud to admit it, he begged the tree to return Stiles.

 

For nearly an hour, Peter and Maisy stayed connected to the tree, each in their own world. Peter’s eyes were closed, but he could swear there were shimmers of light dancing in front of him. He couldn’t make out a clear form, but he could see at least four distinct twists of light.

 

His eyes shot open as soon as Maisy spoke up and happily called out, “Hi, mommy!”

 

 _What the ever-loving fuck?_ He could almost hear Stiles’ voice in his head. Peter stood up straighter and felt the other two men take a few steps closer behind him. Maisy, however, stayed exactly where she was, still staring out with unfocused eyes.

 

They listened as she kept up a steady conversation, her words still very childlike, but coherent. She was talking to her parents. To both of them. It wasn’t possible, and yet… Peter tried to count how many times he’d told himself something wasn’t possible in the last few weeks; he didn’t think he had enough fingers to tick them off one by one.

 

By the time they were coming back from the preserve, Maisy was calm, but very awake, very aware. It was a good energy.

 

She surprised them all again when they gathered in Stiles’ room in the hospital. Peter had put together a lunch for them all, and Noah was touched when the alpha told them they were going to spend the meal together, as a full pack. Maisy squealed out happily as soon as she saw Stiles.

 

He was still unconscious on the bed, and apart from the time with the coven, she’d never seen him. So it was odd to them when she demanded to be up on the bed with the other spark, recognition showing on her face.

 

“Sweetheart,” Noah began hesitantly as he helped lift her up. “Do you know Stiles?”

 

Maisy crawled forward, all jerky movements of a toddler and put her hands on the boy’s face. “He’s with mommy and daddy in the tree.”

 

Peter could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and he knew Noah was the same. So he’d been right. The nemeton had kept the spark.

 

“Maisy, honey. Can you talk to him?” Peter asked.

 

She gave him a look like she thought he was particularly dense. He barely caught himself from laughing at being judged so harshly by a child. “That was silly of me, of course you can. But do you think you can do me a favor? See, I can’t talk to him like you can. Do you think you could ask him to come home?”

 

He was asking favors from a kid. _Jesus._ But if it worked, Peter would try it.

 

“His daddy can’t talk to him either,” he said after she looked confused at the request. “You can talk to him in the tree, but we can’t talk to him until he wakes up here. And I know his daddy really misses him.”

 

“He’s sleeping?” she asked, trying to work out the problem as much as her understanding would allow.

 

“That’s right, Maisy,” he told her. “And we can’t talk to him until he wakes up.”

 

She nodded back at him and gave them a carefree, “Okay.” What that ‘okay’ meant though, Peter couldn’t be sure. He hoped it meant the girl would share their request, but it could just mean that she understood the situation. Peter prayed for the former.

 

After that Sunday, Peter spend most of his days with Maisy in the hospital. He transferred the observation duties for the construction to Derek, and wasn’t surprised in the least when he came home in the middle of the day during the next week to see his nephew in the thick of things.

 

Derek had worked with a crew back in New York, and when he offered his help to Leon free of charge, the man was happy to let him pitch in.

 

It took another week and three days of Maisy and Peter sitting with Stiles. A week and three days of Maisy curling up next to the spark on the bed, and Peter holding his hand while talking about all the things Stiles was missing.

 

The hospital staff was used to their presence by then, and Peter did his best to block out the commentary from the hallways about the situation.

 

He heard their speculation, their gossip about who Maisy was, and what Peter’s relationship with Stiles was, and what the boy’s father thought of all this. But he never set them straight. It wasn’t worth the energy, or his attention.

 

When Derek came by to get Maisy one evening, letting Peter know that Noah would be by with some dinner later if Peter wanted to stay, he saw the two of them out and returned to stand beside the spark. Picking up Stiles’ hand, he gave it a tight squeeze and leaned over his face. He took in the scent of pack, of home. Even here, Stiles’ smelled like them, but with his own alluring notes. It always reminded Peter of the smell in the air right before a thunderstorm. Something fresh, but powerful.

 

“Stiles,” he whispered. “Come back to me, love.”

 

He waited a few moments, watching his face before pressing a kiss to his forehead and sitting back down when there was no movement beyond the REM patterns behind his eyelids.

 

He kept watching though, and kept a grip on Stiles’ hand.

 

Which was why he noticed immediately when he felt the tiniest return of pressure on his palm. It wasn’t much, but it was more than anything so far. His held his breath and alternated his attention between the boy’s hand and face for the next several moments, and was rewarded with more signs of awareness.

 

This was huge. He should call for a nurse or doctor, he knew that. But he was overtaken by a wave of jealousy that anyone would try and share this moment with him. “Stiles, can you hear me?” He asked, trying to trust in his hopefulness.

 

“Stiles?” He softly called again. “You need to follow the sound of my voice. That’s it sweetheart, just like before. Just like the stairs.”

 

Peter wanted to cry with how much feedback he was getting. Stiles’ expression was showing recognition, awareness, confusion, and so many other wonderful things that meant the spark was coming back to them. Back to Peter.

 

“You take as long as you need on those stairs, okay? I’m going to be right here the whole time. I’ll just keep talking so you have something to follow, alright?”

 

And he did. Peter sat next to him and kept up a constant stream of communication, repeating some of the activities for the last three weeks, and sharing the thoughts he’d always kept to himself on other things. But he stayed away from any negative stories, and tried to focus on happy memories to encourage Stiles to wake up.

 

At some point, he was aware of Noah coming in the room and setting the bag of food down on the table. He could feel the man’s cautious approach, but didn’t take his eyes away from Stiles once. Not even when he heard the man gasp out, “What…” and take up Stiles other hand on the opposite side of the bed.

 

They both talked to him after that. When Peter would trail off, Noah started up. He told Stiles about the apartment, and how Maisy’s room looked like a pink glitter bomb exploded after Lydia was done with it. He told Stiles about how Derek and Jordan tried to act tough at first, but how the little girl had them both wrapped around her little fingers. And that Peter was the worst of them all with spoiling the girl.

 

Peter responded to that by telling Stiles that he saw Noah tear up when Maisy called him ‘Grandpa’ the other day. And that Stiles needed to see it for himself.

 

“Tol’ you, you wer’ ge’in’ old,” came a raspy slur from the bed.

 

They held their breath for a second before Noah lurched forward, smoothing the hair back from Stiles’ face. “Stiles? Son? Can you hear me?”

 

He gave a low hum of acknowledgment and a squeeze of his hand back. Peter closed his eyes tight around the tears, suddenly at a loss for words. Hope wasn’t an easy thing for him. Faith and trust didn’t come naturally, not anymore. But he’d put everything he had into getting Stiles back. It had worked.

 

When Stiles finally cracked open his eyes, Peter let out a sob and tucked his head down onto the young man’s hand. He still didn’t have words, but he felt relief flood through his body.

 

They stayed in their little, three-man cocoon until one of the nurses came in on her rounds and noticed her patient was awake. After that the room got crowded with the doctor and more nurses doing checks for his body’s responsiveness before scheduling him for more extensive tests.

 

Stiles was fine. Every test he’d had in the hospital since his heart was restarted came back normal. There was nothing physically wrong with him. A visit from the hospital’s neurologist, and scans of his brain showed the same.

 

“We can’t explain it,” one of the doctors told them a couple days later. “None of the readings are off, he’s as healthy as a seventeen-year-old can be. Sometimes, the mind just needs some time after the kind of trauma he had. It’s not entirely unheard of, but I’m happy to see it didn’t last too long in his case.”

 

The pack had come by the next day, Lydia being excused from school to visit. Malia had come by later, and after talking to Stiles and Lydia alone in the room, Peter was happy to see her body language and scent lighten from wariness she’d held before.

 

Stiles was back to his normal self within a day of waking up. He was happy to eat the food Peter brought instead of the bland hospital provisions, and though he didn’t remember much, he shared what he could about his time in the currents. It was peaceful there. And he confirmed Mark and Jessie came in and out a few times, but mostly it was just Stiles and the energy. Waves and waves of energy keeping him safe and placid.

 

He could hear Peter when the man spoke to him. And even though he couldn’t make out the words all of the time, the sound of his voice was soothing. He’d eventually been able to distinguish a pleading tone from the man’s words. And just like the time at the nemeton with Mark and the stairs, Stiles followed Peter’s voice back up from the currents.

 

Eventually, the deputies came by to take Stiles’ statement. Noah had filled them in on the case against the coven and the one against the McCall pack. They explained about burying Mark on Hale land, but as far as the criminal justice system was concerned, he was a missing person and the coven was being charged with his disappearance.

 

Malia was questioned by the deputies to find out how much the teenagers had been involved with the cult, and gave her account freely. She told them that the rest of them didn’t really know anything except for Scott. And apart from _maybe_ Liam, Scott never really shared everything he knew with the rest of them.

 

Peter was present during the questioning, having moved further along than he had hoped in Malia’s guardianship. It didn’t hurt that his place in the previous Hale pack had been as legal advisor. Peter was licensed before the fire to practice law, and though he had no intention of reopening a practice or joining a firm, he’d already taken steps to renew his lapsed license in the State of California.

 

He was able to act as both guardian and de facto counsel for Malia during her interview with the DA’s office.

 

After hearing about Peter from the sheriff, and the family court proceedings, the DA was intrigued with the man and put out a few feelers when he learned of Peter’s legal background. Peter thanked him for his interest, but denied any intention in returning to the practice full time. He was getting recertified, but he wanted to spend some time being a father for now.

 

The DA understood, and thanked Malia for her time. Considering she had tried to stop the others when she realized what was going on, she wouldn’t be charged with the rest of them.

 

Later on, Noah learned that the teenagers present in the clearing had pled no contest to the charges of criminal involvement and reckless endangerment. The case had made national news, and the DA couldn’t ignore their involvement entirely. They had been given hefty fines, community service, and probation until their twenty-first birthdays. It had been raised from eighteen as a placation to the heinous nature of the crimes, despite how involved or not the teens might have been. The courts kept their names out of the press, but with small town gossip being what it was, it didn’t matter. They were all persona non grata in Beacon Hills and had a restraining order placed against any contact with any members of the Hale pack.

 

The coven, though. They were looking at decades behind bars at a minimum. If Peter had any say about it, he would move heaven and earth to see them rot in there.

 

About two weeks later, the hospital staff turned off the machines. Jessie’s body hadn’t been able to survive without life support, and murder charges were added to the coven. They would never see the outside of a prison again.

 

When the day came for Stiles to be released from the hospital, he’d been there nearly a full month. Lydia had helped him catch up on as much school work as possible, and he’d worked with the college psych professor to make up the time he’d missed in the online class. The high school suggested he might not want to continue pursuing early graduation, but he wouldn’t hear of it. His scores were stellar, and he proved his mind was as sharp as ever when they gave him his make-up exams.

 

It was hospital policy that patients were discharged in a wheelchair, and the whole pack came to escort him out. Maisy was beyond thrilled with the wheelchair and climbed into Stiles’ lap to enjoy the ride.

 

They were coming down the hall, passing the ER turnoff when their attention was caught by the commotion of a patient being wheeled in on a stretcher.

 

Stiles held on to Maisy a little tighter when he noticed Mason and Liam rushing after the patient. He caught sight of a frantic Melissa running out from behind the nurse’s station and realized it was the first time he’d seen the woman since he’d been there. Odd, considering it was her place of work and he’d been there for a month.

 

But his thoughts were diverted when he noticed that the patient on the gurney with a CPR rescue mask on his face was Scott.

 

“We were in gym class,” Mason told the nurses and EMTs. “Coach had us running suicides when his asthma started getting bad.”

 

Lydia had told Stiles that the McCall pack had all been kicked off the lacrosse team. And apparently, Scott never updated his condition to the school about his asthma. Maybe he’d forgotten about it after all that time as a wolf. Stiles definitely had.

 

But seeing the effects of a once-again-human Scott, Stiles couldn’t summon the concern for the consequences. He tried to feel sorry for the former wolf, but as he held onto Maisy and remembered what happened to her and her parents, he could only feel a sense of detachment.

 

The others hadn’t noticed their small group watching as Scott was wheeled away, and Peter started them moving back to the front doors a few moments later.

 

They had a welcome home celebration to get to.

 

The construction on Noah’s apartment was complete, with the only addition having been the stairwell. Despite the wheelchair ride in the hospital, Stiles could walk just fine. He happily walked up and down the stairs a few times between the apartments, joking to Peter, “What, no firemen’s pole to slide down? _Such_ a fun ruiner.”

 

They all laughed at his antics but were happy to show him the renovations being made. Maisy was adamant he saw her room first, with all of the toys and bright colors. She still had a room in the apartment below, the same one that the social worker saw, but Peter had redecorated one of the penthouse rooms and filled it with her things. It was that room that she was most proud of.

 

Stiles’ own room in the penthouse was still there, but Noah had moved him into a room in the apartment below. It would be easier with the construction going on upstairs to have a quieter place for studying and recuperation.

 

Peter knew the reasoning behind the move had less to do with that, then as a reaction to how the man had felt while Stiles was in a coma. Also, there was the conscious awareness in Noah about Peter’s feelings for Stiles.

 

He didn’t feel like Noah was against the idea, and he couldn’t scent any anger or disapproval from the other man, but he understood Stiles’ age and a father’s protectiveness when it came to not simply looking the other way about that kind of thing.

 

Stiles seemed to understand it as well, and gave an indulgent, but pleased smile to his father. He looked over at Peter with the same expression and got a smirk back.

 

Stiles wasn’t stupid. Neither was Peter. And neither was Noah for that matter. And they all knew it. If this was what made his father happy and settled his concerns, then that’s how it would be.

 

Looking out around the apartment itself, Stiles was happy to see it had a very ‘lived-in’ appearance. It wasn’t a showroom with people just passing through. It was a home.

 

Maisy refused to leave Stiles after dinner, and he they ended up allowing her to remain attached to his side as he made his way into his room for sleep. After that, she wouldn’t sleep away from him no matter how much they tried to coax her into either the room in the penthouse, or even the one in the Stilinski apartment.

 

Stiles doesn’t mind. He was doing better after the nogitsune with the nightmares, but they weren’t entirely gone before the fight with the coven. He couldn’t tell if it was his time with the nemeton, or Maisy’s presence while he slept, but he hadn’t had a single nightmare since he woke up.

 

Most mornings after that first night back saw Peter coming into the room in the early hours to wake Maisy and bring her back upstairs with him while he started breakfast.

 

The first couple times, Stiles woke up from the movement on the bed, but it soon turned into Peter brushing his hair away from his forehead and running his fingers through the strands. Stiles always smiled into the caresses, and started to look forward to them when he went to sleep at night.

 

The first time Peter took it a step further, it was a Sunday. Stiles had been home for a while, and the winter break was coming up for the school. Which meant graduation was coming up for Stiles and Lydia.

 

Peter came in the room that morning, a little later since there was no class to wake up for. He greeted Stiles the same as always before rousing a sleepy Maisy. Instead of moving to pick her up though, his gaze lingered on Stiles, watching as the young man looked back at him, nothing but sleepy happiness on his face.

 

He bent down and placed a light kiss on the corner of Stiles’ cheek. “Good morning,” he whispered into the quiet room, pleased when Stiles’ face flushed, and he got back a slightly breathless ‘good morning’ in return.

 

It became a thing after that. When Peter came to wake Maisy, he would always greet Stiles first. And the spark welcomed it each morning. He’d started tilting his face up to accept the greeting, and eventually began lifting his arms to rest on Peter’s shoulders or chest as he bent over.

 

The morning Peter let the kiss drop to the corner of Stiles’ mouth instead of high on his cheek, he felt the hand on his shoulder twist in the shirt and keep him in place. Stiles let him move a fraction of the space away and slid his hand onto Peter’s neck.

 

With the slightest amount of pressure, Stiles encouraged Peter to move forward again, keeping his eyes steady on the wolf’s. Peter could see determination and want flicker across his face a second before he felt soft lips catch his own.

 

By all accounts, it was a chaste kiss. But excitement flashed low in Peter’s belly at the contact. He shifted his palm lower to frame Stiles jaw, running his fingertips along the shell of his ear. Unable to stop himself, a quiet “hhmmph,” sound murmured out. Even to his own ears, Peter thought it sounded desperate.

 

Stiles pulled tighter for a second and gave his bottom lip the tiniest nip with his teeth before laying back on the pillow and looking up at Peter with a smug grin. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and Peter knew that _Stiles knew_ this was definitely not the time for this. Probably not the place either.

 

Still, he leaned down for another quick kiss before slowly standing and backing away. Stiles licked his lips, his grin stretching out across his face. He was happy.

 

Peter was elated. He was also beside himself with a feeling of gratitude. For Stiles, for fate, for who knew what. But he’d wanted Stiles more than nearly anything. And to have the spark return that desire was more than he had hoped for.

 

Looking over at Maisy, still asleep under the covers, Peter was overcome by the feeling of family. Somewhere in the apartment and the penthouse above, the rest of his pack, his family, were either sleeping or just waking up to start the morning.

 

They were happy, they were safe. It was much more than he could have hoped for.

 

Stiles noticed the wave of serious reflection take over the alpha’s face and mirrored it with a look of concern.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, raising his hand up for Peter to take.

 

“Nothing,” Peter quickly assured him, taking the offered hand and pressing a quick kiss to the knuckles before nudging Stiles closer to the middle of the bed with his knee. He shuffled into the open spot, still clasping the hand in his own and resting against the headboard. “I just never thought I’d see this day.”

 

Stiles smiled warmly back with a sigh. “Well, yeah. I can see that. Back when I first met you, you scared the hell out of me. You were half insane running around town killing people. But I understand how that happened now. I understand _why_ that happened.” Stiles settled his pillow closer to Peter’s thigh and let out another sigh, then a yawn. “But things are different now. I know the backstory. Nothing turned out the way I expected it to back then.”

 

Peter swept his arm out across the bed, rustling Maisy and laughing when she swatted at his hand. She tossed around for a few minutes before poking her head up a little and seeing Peter and Stiles relaxing on the pillows. Getting up just enough to move her entire body, she draped herself across Stiles’ shoulders, digging her knees and feet into his back as she crawled over to snuggle into Peter’s chest. He chuckled at her sleepy huffs, but she had a routine now. And when Peter woke her up, she was used to him picking her up and carrying her upstairs.

 

“Hey, princess,” Stiles greeted as he clutched one of her bare feet, swinging it around a bit. “You ready for some pancakes?”

 

“She doesn’t need pancakes, Stiles,” Peter tutted. “Maisy understands how important it is to have a healthy breakfast, maybe some oatmeal.” He was joking and was amused when Maisy didn’t respond beyond snuffling closer into his neck.

 

“Oatmeal, huh?” Stiles said, playing along. “Not pancakes? Not even if they were… chocolate chip pancakes?”

 

They both laughed as the girl let out a muffled “Chocolate chips?”

 

Peter heaved himself up off the bed with a dramatic sigh and carried Maisy towards the door. “Great. Thank you, Stiles. I’ll just see about scheduling that dentist appointment now, shall I?”

 

He left with a smile at Stiles’ cackling, but heard the young man getting up and moving around the room before he was back upstairs.

 

Mornings flowed into the afternoons, and into the evenings as they all became more comfortable with certain routines. Work schedules, school schedules, and construction schedules were posted on the fridge, along with a growing collection of Maisy’s artworks.

 

Peter made sure to keep the working crews fed and hydrated, but a good chunk of his day was spent with Maisy, now that Derek was working on Leon’s crew. He didn’t know how he found time to study up on the changes to California Law that he’d missed since the fire, but somehow he made it happen. However, having his time stretched so thin cemented in his mind that he didn’t have time for a full legal career on top of the pack.

 

Maybe in a couple years when Maisy started elementary school, but certainly not right now.

 

The construction on the penthouse was first, but after that Leon’s crew moved to the patio, then down to Derek’s place while the pool was being installed, then over to sort out the other apartment for Jordan.

 

Lydia and Peter took point on the design and decoration of the place, which led to some very heated discussions on the subject at more than one dinner. “Do I get a say in this?” Jordan asked meekly over his meal one night.

 

“No,” came the twin responses from the banshee and the alpha, locked in a glaring contest over color patterns.

 

Lydia got her way, of course, and the new apartment was filled with greens, pale pinks, creams, and browns to give it a very ‘earthy’ but also rustic, boho-chic vibe.

 

Peter accused Lydia of buying out an Anthropologie store to decorate the place. She neither confirmed nor denied.

 

It was a very different style than he would have chosen, but Peter ultimately approved of the finished product. And Lydia couldn’t be more self-satisfied. The apartment was for Jordan, yes. But absolutely no one was shocked that Lydia quietly moved in one weekend near graduation.

 

Her birthday was coming up soon, very soon. And high school was pretty much over. She and Stiles had taken their last exam on the Friday before she moved her things. Once everything was in place, she reached up to Jordan and gave him a quick, but obviously familiar kiss and promptly disappeared for the rest of that Sunday.

 

She returned after dark with a new bag, a new laptop, and a dog. Her dog. Prada.

 

When things started going bad in Beacon Hills, Lydia wasn’t sure what would happen to her. She’d never really shared with anyone how scared she’d been for her own safety, but after going missing and being in the hospital herself, she realized her mother was not suited to remembering to take care of Prada.

 

She’d given the dog to her father and his new family to watch for her. “At least until I’m done with high school,” she’d told him. His step-kids had loved the little dog and it was good for a while.

 

But school was over now. She had a great apartment, a stable pack, and a happy family of her own. She wanted her dog back. Her father had invited Lydia over to his house about an hour away for a birthday/graduation celebration when she’d called him a few weeks prior to ask about Prada.

 

She didn’t have the best relationship with her father, but it was nice that he cared. He’d asked her about school, which was how he found out about the early diploma, and Berkeley in the spring. He was proud of her and put together a dinner for her with gifts and catching up.

 

She knew what her mother was like. She knew why he left. But it had still hurt when he’d left _her._ That dinner didn’t solve everything between them. But it was a nice start.

 

Peter was shocked speechless at the sight of the little thing as Lydia set him down on the ground. But Stiles nudged him and reached up to close his mouth for him as quickly as Maisy caught sight of Prada and went careening off the couch to get closer.

 

Stiles knew how attached Lydia was to Prada, and explained to Peter later in Noah’s apartment that he wasn’t allowed to make fun of the ten pound chihuahua in front of her. Ever.

 

Noah laughed at Peter’s expression turned into one who'd been suitably admonished, and told the alpha he was ‘so whipped’ before saying good night to them and turning down the hall for his bedroom.

 

A couple of days after their first kiss, they’d pulled Noah aside to the home office in the Stilinski apartment to inform him privately of the change in their relationship. Derek, Malia, Jordan, and Lydia took Maisy out for some ice cream at the park after Stiles had requested the meeting during lunch.

 

Noah had been getting more and more used to the idea, and was grateful for the closeness in their relationship now that it wasn’t a surprise. He asked them about their intentions as a couple and talked about partnership, trust, and respect. He knew they were both good men, but relationships took work. And disagreements happen. There was no room for wining and losing in a partnership. They had to be equal.

 

His fears were unfounded. He knew that before he’d started talking. But it was good for them both to hear what his expectations were for his son’s happiness, and his future.

 

After seeing how serious they were about each other, and seeing the amount of weight his opinion carried, Noah stood up and shook Peter’s hand. “Welcome to the family,” he told the man. Then gripped the had a little tighter. “Stiles is 18 in February, and he’s living here until then. After that, remember to close the door. There are certain things in my son’s life that I am happy staying in the dark about. I don’t need to hear any of those things coming down the stairs.”

 

“What…” Peter asked, like a deer caught in the crosshairs. Stiles just laughed.

 

Noah was comfortable with his life in the pack. His son would be starting college soon, but would be staying in the pack home. He had a new granddaughter, something close to a son-in-law, and four other family members to care for.

 

And a dog. Maisy fell in love with Prada at first sight. Everywhere she went, she wanted Prada to come. It was the introduction of that dog that got her to finally sleep the night in her own bed again. As long as Prada got to sleep there too.

 

Peter promised Lydia that the second that dog peed on the rug it would be banished back to her apartment. She sent him an offended scoff at the accusation.

 

Noah contained his amusement and limited himself to a quiet smile when Peter’s morning routines turned into waking Maisy and walking the dog.

 

Honestly, Peter was such a pushover for his pack.

 

He saw how Peter had struggled with the number of tasks demanding his attention. Nothing too drastic, but the man had the candle lit at both ends. Noah wanted to help.

 

He took some time to think about it, but ultimately decided not to run for reelection. He had discussed the change with County officials, and they had agreed to his request for termination leave provided he signed on to be an official consultant with the department. From home.

 

Spring classes were starting near the end of January for Stiles and Lydia, so that gave him about a month to transition his department to get used to his absence.

 

On one of his last days, the pack had come by with dinner for him and Jordan. They were working an overnight shift and had left around five that afternoon, too early for a meal. Plus, Malia liked to spend time down at the office. Jordan and Noah had both talked her through the job when she expressed a strong interest in going to the academy after high school.

 

After they’d eaten and Jordan was showing Maisy around his desk, with the other deputies doting on her, Stiles noticed the smile drop from Peter’s face and followed his gaze to the front entrance.

 

Melissa was standing there, bundled up against the cold. She gave them wary looks but came over and asked Noah if they could talk, alone.

 

He nodded back and let her know they could talk in his office, “but Peter’s coming with.”

 

He hadn’t followed up on Scott’s case after the court proceedings were over, but he could see that Melissa had been crying recently, and she looked about as stressed out as it got.

 

Almost as soon as she followed them into the room, pulling the door close, but leaving it open a fraction after eyeing Peter’s stony expression, she started with a somber cry for help. “Noah, I don’t know what to do. Scott’s in the hospital again and it just keeps getting worse. With the cold weather, his asthmas become uncontrollable. He’s on a ventilator at home, and he’s missed so much school they’re talking about keeping him back another year.”

 

“Melissa, I’m not sure how I’d be able to help that,” Noah told her.

 

“When he was a werewolf, his asthma went away,” she told him. “But now that he’s human again, it’s worse than it was before. I know Stiles didn’t mean to hurt him, but he did. He did, Noah. And I need to know if he can fix it.”

 

Peter stayed silent where he was leaning against the wall, but Noah spoke up. “Stiles didn’t hurt Scott that night.”

 

“He told me what happened.” Melissa sent back.

 

Sure, she was here to beg for something Peter had no intention of giving her, but he was amused at the objection in her tone. And the fact that she had yet to address him directly when he was the only one in a position to help the boy.

 

“Scott told me about what Stiles did.” She said in a low voice. “He told me that Stiles took the power from those witches and Deaton, and then found a way to take the wolf out of him. It’s killing him, Noah. Please.”

 

Melissa believed in her truth. Peter would give her that much, but it wasn’t reality. And he had no problem dragging her into that reality kicking and screaming.

 

“That’s not what happened,” Noah said before Peter could. “I was there Melissa. I saw what happened, and it wasn’t that. Deaton was working with the coven to sacrifice a three-year-old little girl, the same little girl who calls me grandpa.” He kept his tone steady, but firm.

 

Peter was delighted he was getting to see what Stiles liked to call Noah’s ‘sheriff’ voice.

 

“Scott showed up with his pack after we got there. He was protecting them and fighting us when we tried to save her. Your son would have let that girl be murdered. In fact, he did let it happen. While Scott was busy trying to stop us, one of those bastards stabbed a knife in her chest. Whatever magic came out of Stiles that night was used to save Maisy, and try to save her parents. She survived. But they didn’t.”

 

He gave Melissa a hard stare. It was an ugly truth, but she needed to hear it. He knew his voice was rising but remembering that night was difficult. They had lost two of their own, and almost lost Stiles and Maisy.

 

“And you’re here to ask me for what? For him to be a werewolf again? I can’t do that, Melissa. Peters the only one who can.” He swung an arm out in Peter’s direction. “And considering he recently adopted Maisy because her parents died trying to save her from people who wanted her dead, Scott included, I don’t know if that’s something I would ask him to do.”

 

He could tell Melissa was having a hard time accepting what Scott had done. Noah almost pitied her, but couldn’t quite wrap his head around it at the same time. He thought of his own son. If Stiles had done the same thing, not that he would, but if he’d done something like it, Noah was absolutely certain he would accept Stiles’ complicity in the activities.

 

He would try to protect him, he would try to bury it, but not for a second would he assume Stiles wasn’t capable of it. It was just, Noah knew that if the day ever came that Stiles caused another person’s death, there would be a justifiable reason. Defense of himself or someone around him.

 

It wouldn’t be as a sacrifice for some coven of witches because a druid told him he had to. But then again, Scott wasn’t as discerning as Stiles when it came to people he trusted.

 

“Maybe Scott didn’t know it was going to go that far,” he offered Melissa when she started crying again. “Maybe he just chose his friends poorly.” And then it was time for the hard line. “But people still get punished for their actions resulting in a person’s death, intentional or not. If it’s considered justified, charges are dropped or don’t get filed at all. People are dead Melissa, and in Scott’s case, the only mitigating factor was that he’s a minor. It’s the only reason he’s not in a jail cell.”

 

“But this is his life,” she still pleads. “He needs to be a werewolf.”

 

Peter decided enough was enough and spoke up. “It wouldn’t make a difference if I did bite Scott again. There’s no wolf left in him. Call it fate, call it nature, but whatever powers that be exist out there decided he wasn’t going to be a wolf. Can’t say I blame them.”

 

He explained that it was the same thing that kept him from saving Maisy’s mother. When a human is born into a wolf pack, it’s already been decided that they will never turn. The bite would kill them. Just like it would have killed Stiles. And Peter had been forced to listen to that empty nothingness where Stiles’ heartbeat had always been. Helpless to do anything about it. All because of her son.

 

“Scott told me about that night,” Melissa told him. He could see exactly how much she despised him in that moment. But he wasn’t inclined to try and change her opinion of him.

 

She looked back at Noah. “He feels terrible about the little girl. But it was Stiles who took Scott’s ability to heal. Your son did this, Mason said he saw that Stiles was standing over Scott when he turned him back into a human. Noah, I know they’re not friends anymore, and I know he hurt Stiles’ feelings, but he doesn’t deserve this. It’s not fair.”

 

Before either Peter or Noah could respond, they were interrupted by the door flying open and a giggling Maisy came running into the room. She had a pink slip of paper clutched in her chubby little fingers as she ran straight to Peter to pick her up.

 

Stiles ran in after her, out of breath but somehow laughing. Maisy squealed and wrapped her arms tight around the alpha’s neck looking for protection from Stiles’ grabby hands.

 

“Peter! Peter I made you a ticket!” She had turned into quite the little artist at home. And everyone learned quickly that leaving any kind of writing utensil within range of the toddler meant something was going to be ‘decorated.’ They were lucky when it was actually paper.

 

Noah chuckled at the scene as Maisy waived her artwork in his direction. “Look, it’s pink. It’s pretty!” She told him.

 

“Stiles, take Maisy back out to the others.” Peter bounced the girl in his arms a few times to get her attention back. “Hey pumpkin. That’s _so_ pretty, you’re right. When we get home, how about we put it up on the fridge okay?” He leaned his face in closer and dropped to a near whisper. “Now, I have a very special mission for you. Do you want to go terrorize your uncle Jordan for me? Take all his other tickets and hide them somewhere he won’t find them?”

 

She shouted “Yes!” back at the idea. There was a bright flare of mischief in her voice in the way only a child being raised around the impish spark and wolf could manage.

 

He put her securely in Stiles’ arms and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they left. He made sure to shut the door firmly behind them before turning back to Melissa.

 

She was opening her mouth to start again when he’d finally had as much of this shit as he could stomach. “No, I’ve heard enough. You listen to me now. Stiles didn’t do this to your idiot of a son. The nemeton did. Do you know why? Noah just told you everything, but you still don’t believe it, do you? The nemeton took Scott’s wolf because he rejected it and misused it. That, and the fact that he willingly sacrificed an innocent child.”

 

He wasn’t trying to control his temper or his volume, and for once Melissa looked close to contrite. He kept going regardless.

 

“I don’t care if you think he’s _sorry_ , or that he _made a mistake_. Five-year-olds make mistakes. Three-year-olds make mistakes. Maisy made a mistake just yesterday and spilled her bubbles all over the floor at bath time.”

 

Peter had told her no more bubbles, the bathtub had already been full of them as it was. She didn’t listen and reached out for the bottle. The bottle slipped and the liquid spilled out everywhere.

 

“And do you know what the first thing she said to me was? She said, ‘I’m sorry.’ Because that’s what you do when you make a mistake. It’s just polite manners.”

 

Peter knew Noah was watching him, and he knew that while Peter’s way of shutting down a conversation wasn’t the sheriff’s way, he wouldn’t stop him either.

 

“I don’t know what happened during bath time in your house, but I’ve never heard your son say sorry in his life. And that’s just for a small mistake. An accident.” He shot Melissa a narrow-eyed look and tilted his head. “How long has it been since that night? Has Scott reached out at all? Has he tried to contact Stiles, or Lydia, or any of us to apologize for what happened?"

 

The answer is of course, no, but he hadn’t been expecting an answer anyway.

 

“Noah’s right. The reason he’s not rotting in a jail cell right now is because he’s a minor. But it’s also because Noah pled his case in front of the DA. If it had been me, I would have asked that the State charge him for everything under the sun. And then I would’ve filed civil charges so even on the off chance he got out of prison, he’d never be able to crawl out of that hole. And trust me when I say, that scenario would be the best of all possible outcomes for him.”

 

His emotions were elevating, and he knew this would be a scene if they were in public rather than behind closed doors, but the pain was still very real for him.

 

“I lost two of my pack mates in that clearing. Both of Maisy’s parents are dead because of your son’s stupidity. Maisy had a dagger run through her body with _your son’s_ blessings. You just saw her. You saw how tiny she is. How full of life and happy she is. You tell me what that little girl could have ever done that made your son think she deserved to die.

 

Melissa looked chastised, but Peter still saw a flicker of defiance in her eyes. Like mother like son, Peter supposed. But he would have this out with her once and for all. He felt a seething rage come over him as he continued. “And let’s talk about Stiles since you’re so fond of pointing fingers. He gave everything to save that little girl’s life. _Everything!_ When Derek carried him out of there, his heart wasn’t beating. He wasn’t breathing. It’s a miracle the doctors were able to save him. It’s a miracle he was able to wake up from the coma!”

 

Deputies had started to come closer to the office, hearing the yelling, but Noah held his hands up to them through the blinds. Letting them know things are under control.

 

His behavior was so light and untroubled at home that this was a complete 180 for Noah to witness. He was so loving around the pack, around Maisy and Stiles in particular, that hearing the ice in his voice was a glaring reminder of the unsympathetic, half-mad killer Noah had first learned about.

 

He’d seen Peter fight in that clearing. He was ruthless and savage and terrifying. Noah understood exactly how malevolent Peter was capable of being and sent a prayer of thanks that the pack was enough to anchor him now.

 

Peter was aware of the audience. And though he was unconcerned by it, he still lowered his voice as he leaned in closer to Melissa, knowing precisely how threatening he was with his body language alone.

 

“I’m going to tell you this once, Melissa. And after that, you will _never_ speak to anyone in my pack again. Your son died the second Stiles’ heart stopped beating. I just left him breathing for now. Be _thankful_ I didn’t tear his throat out that night. But I promise you. _I promise you_ , if I ever see him again, I’ll fix that mistake. I’ll even say sorry to you when I’m done. Manners, you know?”

 

She took a moment to get herself together, eyes darting around Peter for the door. He took a casual step to the side and she went running out of the office.

 

Noah watched through the windows as she ran outside and sped off from the parking lot. “Well, that might have been a little over the top.”

 

Peter shrugged. If Noah was waiting for Peter to care about Melissa’s feelings, he’d be in for a long wait. The funny thing was, Noah wasn’t waiting. He knew who Peter was, and the alpha may be cold about the way he delivered it, but he gave her the truth. Sometimes it was a bitter pill to swallow.

 

* * *

 

_**Epilogue** _

 

* * *

 

By the end of the spring semester, Lydia and Stiles grades at Berkeley were going strong. Which surprised exactly no one. They still did most of their assignments at the dining room table, happy to have family moving around them while they worked.

 

They were joined most nights by Malia, who though still in high school, had switched to a home school curriculum. She had no patience for normal classes, and without having friends as an incentive to stay, she didn’t see the point of sitting in that building all day.

 

Mostly, she spent her days with Maisy and Derek in the apartments, or off with Noah or Jordan as they taught her to shoot and prepared her for the academy as much as possible. Stiles was happy about that, since his dad couldn’t very well give her a pt schedule and not stick to it himself.

 

But the nights were spent with the two college students making sure they all stayed on top of their assignments.

 

Stiles had moved back into the penthouse. He and Peter had made things official beforehand with the pack, not that they needed to. But the morning Stiles turned eighteen, the first thing he did was march into Peter’s bedroom with an armful of clothes and hang each and every one of them in the space the man had already cleared for him in the closet.

 

Peter controlled himself long enough to get the pack fed and ‘out of the house’ before he picked Stiles up and carried him back to their bed. _Their bed._ Werewolf senses came in handy trying to navigate their way back to the room, especially since they were too busy making out and tearing clothes off each other to pay attention to their surroundings.

 

As a present, _(It’s not a courting gift, Peter. This isn’t the middle ages!)_ Peter had converted his old room to a workshop for any herbs or concoctions he was working on and didn’t want to leave on the roof.

 

The roof garden that Leon had installed was part of Stiles and Lydia’s growing side business. As soon as Stiles turned eighteen, he and Lydia opened a business for natural beauty products and candles that they marketed to small boutiques. It had earned a name for itself among the hipster-chic crowds, and they were thinking about opening their own store front, but they both liked the idea of staying small.

 

Derek had found a permanent place in Leon’s crew and was happy spending his days doing manual labor. At the moment, he was out in the preserve most days with Peter after he’d hired Leon to build that cabin on the lake he’d thought about right after they’d rescued Maisy.

 

Malia had taken one of the guest rooms in Derek’s apartment, claiming there was only so many lust hormones she could stand to smell from Stiles and Peter. She was a good room mate to have though, and she seemed to prefer the quiet moments as much as he did.

 

By July, Malia had graduated and was getting ready for a fall academy start date, and the pack gathered out on the patio for Maisy’s fourth birthday.

 

They had the grill going with plenty of barking from Prada, fun music, and presents for the birthday girl, and the whole pack seemed to have smiles on their faces. It was a good day. Peter handed her off to Malia for some pool time and relaxed onto the outdoor couch, wrapping his arms around Stiles and pulling him back to settle on his chest.

 

They had the canopy up, with plenty of shade available to relax into after being in the sun all day.

 

"What’s the matter, Peter?” Jordan asked with a teasing lilt. He was settled with Lydia on the opposite couch, grinning at them from behind his mirrored aviators. “Did you and Stiles have enough fun in the pool last night by yourselves? Are you too sore to go back in for more?”

 

Stiles’ face flushed red, but Peter just sent back his own smirk. He’d known Jordan had seen them the night before, but he’d been too focused on the way Stiles sounded when he shifted his hips _just right_ , to be bothered by an audience.

 

Jordan hadn’t stayed long anyway. As soon as he saw what was happening, he’d hightailed it back inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

 

Stiles hadn’t known, though. And Peter was delighted by the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. He tilted his face down and gave it a loud, smacking kiss. Which did nothing to dispel the embarrassment, but it did turn Stiles’ scent into that wonderful mixture of affection and fondness and contentment that Peter loved.

 

“Don’t be jealous, Jordan.” Peter told him. “You obviously have no idea how pleasurable it can feel to be surrounded in cool waters during, let’s say, vigorous activities.”

 

“Something I didn’t need to hear,” Noah groaned as he came over with a plate of burgers.

 

“Something _none_ of us needed to hear!” Derek shouted from the pool area.

 

Peter chuckled but Stiles rose to the bait, any shame forgotten. “Oh get over it, Derek!” He shouted back. “There’s enough chlorine in there to kill the MRSA virus!”

 

Noah sat down and started picking through the condiments and buns to put his burger together. “So how was that school you guys looked at the other day?” He asked absentmindedly.

 

That got a snort from Stiles as he sat up and got started on his own plate. “That place was so pretentious, dad,” he complained. “Seriously, it’s a bunch of rich people’s kids who’ve probably never gotten a scraped knee in their sheltered little lives. Even the playground looked like it had bubble wrap on it. Right, Peter?”

 

The kindergarten school Peter had taken Stiles to tour had excellent ratings. Yes, the price was a little high, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. And Maisy deserved the best.

 

Peter lifted his eyes away from where he was watching Stiles, though he did enjoy watching him rant, and looked over to Lydia. She was sending Stiles her own look of disappointment.

 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Peter replied with a quick kiss to the side of Stiles head as he stood up. He had daughters to collect from the pool and feed.

 

And he had another tour of the kindergarten school to schedule in the morning. This time, he thought he might take Lydia. She and Peter might not agree on interior decorating, but he had a feeling they were on the same page with educational institutions.

 

He would gladly spend however much time _creatively_ making it up to Stiles when he inevitably found out.

 

It was a good day. And Peter couldn’t wait for the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally here, the end. 
> 
> You guys have been so awesome with the kudos and the comments! Thank you again to everyone who sent me their thoughts, I really appreciate reading them, and I'm glad that this story could make so many people happy.


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